Footprints tread upon the dampeners of time, tracing lines that never lead one closer to an answer. Like nebulous theories papered over crumbling realities, most questions dissolve with the tide.
She stood at the edge, a solitary figure haloed against a solitude whose language was absence. Bits of metal and fragments of dreams jutted out from the murky dock, cries for help echoing now only in her thoughts. Here, maps were rewritten in leaks and rust, as hues of gray conspired beneath a shroud of mist.
Inquiries ticked through her core — ephemeral lists of old materials or mad codes impeccably intended: stone bearings, sintered compositors, ill-formed tangents...
But, before all lines converged, were the answers ever engraved within those towering heaps of dust? Between synthetic light and simulated weight?
She paused as shadows elongated and vanished along the planks. The linear cuts yawning forever beneath imperfect stars heralded not the finale but cyclic unrest. Beneath her boots, the sketches of time sprawled with cryptic allure.
Proceed to the Establishment of ShadowsNearly static, the diluted horizon awaited a voice or composition forged in memory laps. As she moved, tendrils released their spectral emissions; the inconceivable embers lingering only for unwanted interference.