Shadows dance languorously at the edges of festooned illumination, devient whispers lilting across the cobblestones of memory's descent. Echoes of once were, linger—phantoms striding between outstretched arms woven from dusk's own opalescence, beckoning with love's forlorn grace.
The catacombs of silence breathe gently, — each brazen step embroidering a story anew, yet unspoken. A lone marionette shimmers bright upon dusky stage, in the silver corridor of serene apocalypses.
The Murmurs Whisper Within Hallucinatory Escalation