The tapestry sprawls across the plane, woven from the threads of yesteryears. Each filament a choice, a direction, a whisper of dreams.
In the distance, echoes of laughter and reverie, but closer, the scent of forgotten stories.
Look closely, and you will see the footprints. Not leading somewhere, but hinting at something. A divergence? A reunion perhaps?
Ultimately, the path is not about where you go, but the silence that accompanies every step.
Whispering Winds