"The horizon, ever distant, waits for no one but those who wander," whispered the wind. Listen further.
The shadows of past decisions warp the sunset, bending light where light should not bend. In an ironic twist,
the sun procrastinates setting before a horizon that has all the time in the world.
Explore secret paths, if you dare.
Once, the horizon promised progress; now, it offers only the irony of stillness.
A place where whispered secrets in the wind become the loudest truths.
Bend the reality as you ponder over this.
"To delay is human; to procrastinate, divine."