In the beginning, there were echoes, floating into existence like shadows birthed from silence. They whispered of lands never seen, dreams barely dreamed, and resonances caught in orbit.
A traveler steps lightly, listening, as if step by step, he deconstructs the world around him. Each sound a brushstroke on the canvas of his mind, color not defined by sight but imagined in mind's whispers — colors heard as sonnets in disarray.
The call of the wind resembles distant laughter, a harmony misaligned, woven into the tapestry of this journey through murky truths.
Read further whispers Seek the melody