Have you ever tasted the color orange? Not true orange, mind you, but the neon one that comes from dreams. It tastes like flickering lights and echoing laughter. Out here, shadows dance on walls that don’t exist, and the sun hums lullabies.
This place—the "Pathway to Oblivion"—isn’t really a place, you know? It’s more of a mood, a phase, like that time you tried talking to a squirrel and it actually understood you, but the conversation ended suddenly with a pigeon flying into its face.
You likely won’t want to stay long. Muffled voices beckon from beyond the beyond, calling your name only because they’ve forgotten their own. Maybe follow the sound… or not.
Either way, don't forget to salute the ghost of irony that hangs suspiciously near the corner. It doesn’t show its gratitude, but it definitely expects payment in existential dread.
Feeling brave? Sample the void. Click here.
Search for the mythical flying whale that supposedly swallows stars on cloudy nights. Legend says it leaves trails of music across the moon.