The whispers in the ancient stones tell stories of sunrises that painted the dawn in hues unseen today. In an age where silence stretched across the valleys, these stones were witnesses to the echoes of forgotten footsteps.
Standing before this portal, I am reminded that each echo is a fragment of a life once lived. How does the sound of solitude reverberate in an empty room, if not with the histories it has housed within its walls? Time moves as an unseen tide, and I am but a leaf caught in its currents.
Here, in the twilight glow of the reverberating canyon, we find ourselves trapped between the now and the never. A time traveler might pause, ponder, and perhaps leave behind a note sealed in the crust of the earth's memory.