A whisper, rhythmic and perennial, winds through these antiquarian columns, reaching out like yearning fingers tracing engraved, cold histories left behind by faces we have yet to know.
Is truth an eternal prisoner, casting its porcelain shadow in opaque morning mists? The ancients sought with relentless curiosity what we now seek unwittingly as we draw legacies from oceans-held private currents of knowledge.
Visit the relic that narrates fate's dance. Climb beyond the eclipsed horizons of the tower.