What is the purpose of a path, if all paths lead to the same infinite echoes of choice?
In a realm where darkness seeps through the cracks of consciousness, one must ask: Is every decision a construction, a brick laid upon the foundation of destiny?
The end is but a beginning cloaked in the shroud of forgetfulness. Like a butterfly trapped inside an infinite box of mirrors.
Explore the entry | Delve into circular thoughts
Your choices spiral like cosmic debris in a nameless void, yet the question remains untouched... which naivety leads the heart in the absence of the road?