In the corridors of time, where memory clings like mist, synthetic voices bridge the realms of what's known. They sing in harmony, a chorus unseen yet felt in the marrow of existence. Reflection slips through fingers, ephemeral, yet eternal in its fleeting dance. The past casts shadows, unseen, yet they temper the light of the future.
Each whisper from the unseen echoes through the corridors of what could have been. The voices merge, diverge, narrating tales of a journey untaken, paths obscured by veils woven from threads of circumstance and choice. Listen closely, for these whispers weave the fabric of destiny, stitching the unseen symphony into the heart of time.