Once, the sands sang softly with stories untold and the winds wept timelessness in words. Among the ripples, a heart frozen in the earth's embrace whispered secrets of fleeting joys—an ephemeral garden of voices strewn spontaneously like lost feathers.
The curator of the museum of whispers discovered this heart, hidden amongst hieroglyphs of forgotten dreams. She breathed life into its stillness with a single question: "What relic of thought do you long to share?"
The soil shrugged and the petals unfurled, revealing stories that danced through corridors of memory—
Each fragment spurred onward, a belonging to an unseen past. The heart's pulse synchronized with hers, a bassline to thoughts dulcet yet haunting.
"Time," it whispered, "is the sculptor and the gravekeeper."
Continue the journey.