Pattern of Shadows
In the abandoned squares of our city, where whispers are the loudest, shadows cast long tales. Patterns emerge under the gaze of the moon, intricate stories woven into the cobblestones.
Fabric of Time
Time weaves itself a tapestry, they say. Lunatics affirm they see the loom, spinning cycles unknown to rational minds. Yet, the fabric frays and glows in the twilight.
Echoes of Eternity
Voices without owners, echoes that know no walls. Eternity listens to its own song in a place untouched by reason, where patterns dance like leaves in an unseen wind.
The Infinite Weave
Some claim to understand it, the infinite weave, the matrix of sound and silence. But understanding is a loop, a spiral that leads back to whispers and shadows.