In the corridors of once, where shadows dance in familiarity, we find the stories that never were — a tapestry woven without threads. Here, time folds in upon itself, and the soft echoes of yesterday murmur, as if to remind us of the moments that slipped through fingers outstretched.
"Have we not sat by this very shore before, feeling the same breeze that carries whispers of forgotten dreams?" — An echo of a question once asked, or perhaps still to be.
Within these whispered recollections, there lies a philosophy of déjà vu, woven into the fabric of existence itself. A cycle, perhaps, or a spiral — each turn bringing us closer to an understanding, yet further from the origin of our wandering. Are these memories, known yet unknown, mere specters, or our souls’ unfinished symphony?
Contemplate the reverberations of a single choice, the weight of a moment that threatens to tip the scales of eternity. Journey through the archives of dreams, where the past holds the key to futures unseen.