Patterns of the Portal

In the midst of twilight's embrace, the footprints whisper secrets to the moonlit sands. They walk, leap, and sometimes vanish, leaving an echo of memories untold. An old man in a bowler hat gazes upwards, not at the clouds but at something beyond the realm of sight. Below, paths entwined with ivy overgrown lead to doors locked from the inside.

Somewhere, a violin plays a note held too long; it vibrates with the frequency of forgotten dreams. The stars blink in Morse, a code lost to the ages, yet understood by none.