Wander not through the lost corridors of your past, but through the fog where specters illuminate the gentle, ghostly fog. Beneath these nebulous lights, everything human seems distant, forgotten, yet close enough to tease understanding. Paths diverge in lucent whispers, beckoning your very essence to follow.
Perhaps familiarity rests beneath the surface, embedded in the folklore of foreign moons. In these tales spoken by wind, truth awaits—not in discovery but in the quiet acceptance of what once was, and what may yet again be so. Here the journey breathes, illuminated and unending.
Here, the ground flickers under dim starlight, beneath the endless arches of cranial cosmos. It's not the past or the future; it's pathways illuminated, leading footsteps into new truths, unguarded serenity.