In the depth of the unseeing dusk, shadows converse in languages lost. The rhythm weaves an invisible web, a dance of echoes on the whispering edge of time.
"Scream in silence," the tides murmur, "for the night listens more closely than the day."
Beneath the surface of dreams, a current flows—a stream of forgotten thoughts, untangled and free, muttering to themselves in the deep.
Explore the Afterthoughts Walk the Echoing Path