Upon the ancient shelves of the forgotten library, where whispers of long-gone voices dance upon the dust motes, lies a trove of tales undescribed. Books piled high, and yet, each spine is a cry of silence, an articulation of absence, and an exuberance for the unspecified journeys that the blind do traverse. Here, every tome is a labyrinth of possibility, a tapestry of shadows weaving into the luminescence of oblivion.
The volumes lay, systematic in their chaos, creating vistas of the intangible, where your gaze wanders aimlessly as the stories within beckon with unseen hands. Footprints lead nowhere and everywhere, tracing paths upon phantom sands, where each step sings songs of the unseen traveler's plight.
Artifacts of Memory