The mirror held a truth beyond reflection, where each piece of glass whispered forgotten echoes of realities never lived and worlds yet unseen.
In a universe untethered, does the observer hold dominion or does their role dissolve into the cosmic indistinction? The cat sits, both here and elsewhere, in a garden that does not bloom.
Pathways lined with decisions echo with discordant harmony, a symphony composed of notes unplayed yet hauntingly remembered.
Entangled in fate's whimsical threads, the weaver becomes the woven, destiny splits yet holds, an ambivalence balanced on the edge of certainty.
We walk upon the paradoxical bridges that span the void, stepping lightly upon strands of time woven with intention and chance.