Have you stood where echoes are swallowed by their own depth, only to whisper dreams to the void? An ancient silence hangs, heavy and cloaked. Ripples in the shade dance like secrets forgotten under the underbrush of time's casual abandon.
Sometimes, a voice calls from the mirror, distorted yet pure; its reverberations create a symphony of lonely stars in the velvet dome above our restless minds. The truth bends like rays of sun on a sultry afternoon, and still, we chase what lies beyond our touch – the echo of an echo, singing its solemn song.