In the dimension where hush resides, sound becomes a phantom, elusive and intangible. Yet, its presence lingers, woven between the breaths of existence. Silence has a sound, doesn't it? A gentle humming beneath the skin of reality, whispering truths and fabrications alike.
When does a whisper become an echo? When it transcends the boundary of the ear to linger in the heart of the abyss. Or is it a mere illusion, a trick of the mind, nested among the paradoxes of waking dreams? Listen closely, for the sounds are hushed yet loud, in a dance of serene chaos.
Consider the shadows cast by whispers, long and fleeting like memories swimming in the twilight of thought. They speak in hushed tones, these shadows, reflections of reflections, asking the questions with no answers visible—do you hear them?