In the dusk where whispers dance on fractal edges, I find myself wandering. Here, dreams cloak reality with velvet shadows, and the air is saturated with echoes.
Maze-like thoughts intertwine, stretching endlessly, drawing lines between what was and what could never be. Each corridor of the mind parallels another, mirroring uncertainties within poetic realms unspoken.
These mazes, without ends, keep their secrets. The walls, a tapestry of moonlit illusions, hide a world where even time seems to lose rhythm, all while dreams unfurl like petals upon a flower of enigmas.