It resides between the inhalations of a silent room,
where echoes become the architects of long-forgotten dialogues—
spectral artisans tracing solace onto fabric of darkness.
A voice unconfided, lingering on the edge of perception,
speaks in pulses, what does it mean yet still does not mean at all?
Vinyl records spinning in reverse,
charting the maps of undiscovered intent.
Passages flow unseen, through walls layered
with whispers — dew drops clinging to thorns of silence,
words become step-stones on reflective streams.