In the silent corridor of the mind, there hangs a mirror. It reflects not your image, but a kaleidoscope of truths, some familiar, others alien and disguised in shadows.
You peer into this perennial glass, seeking answers. What is reflected is never what it seems.
Truth bends here; light distorts, revealing the unseen.
Faces of past and future fuse in transient visages.
Perceptions align, only to misalign in the blink of an aurora.
Navigate the corridors of your own reflections:
Echoes of the Twilight Path |
Dimensions of Fracture |
Illusions of Beyond
The question mark is a sentence: a beginning without closure.
Here, every truth is a question, and every question a truth.
Unravel the enigma, or perhaps, embrace the reflection.