Have you ever walked a road not borrowed from the books of memory, yet replete with the certain scent of familiar lands?
The air is laced with phantom fragrances, mingling the essence of wild thyme and the deep caress of a moonlit night. Your sandals trace steps upon this stardust road, an imprint of space and time in opalescent hues.
The silent orchestras compose their symphonies in the hues of the dawn. There lies beneath the shadows of the yesternight, the song of the stars, whispering secrets wrapped in nebulous dreams.
Fingers stretch towards the stars, and the stars, they speak, with voices like cascading waterfalls...each drop an echo of another world.
In this nebulous realm, wandering souls find solace. Each footfall reverberates—
Close your eyes, even for a moment. Trust in the tendrils of memory that weave the tapestry of our now—
In this shadowed bramble, an owl hoots thrice, and another dusk-gathering tale unfolds before you.
A voice, a gentle echo, claims the verdant dusk: “You have walked this path before.” And the world tilts slightly, as if bowing to an unsung truth hidden beneath layers of realizations.
Where do portals lead but to the homes we seek amongst the constellations?
Here lies the story of possession not by fate, but by the tender caress of cosmic déjà vu...