In the heart of these shadows, where echoes linger longer than sound,
the walls hum ancient tunes beneath a veil of cultured dust.
"If mirrors have the right to reflect, why not speak?" she murmurs, looking deep.
Have you seen the whispers, tactlessly reflecting in the downfall of our age?
Follow the treads of the silent clocks and they shall whisper the histories: fleeting moments, eternal chronicles.
Each fragment holds a taste, a sliver of truth sheathed in riddles unseen. Gaze into the mirror, if you dare, for it listens more than it shows.