In the labyrinth of thought, there lives a quiet suggestion. Are these the echoes of a life once imagined or the faint outlines of conversations unfurling at the edge of sleep?

"I remember..." she began, but as the words twisted out into the darkness, their intent faded. Was it memory or merely a dream she recited?

Along the rows of forgotten things, a voice emerges: "Have you been here before?"

The stars—small fires burning in the silence of night—hold their secrets tightly. Their stories etched in light, waiting to be translated.

Hear the Murmur

Transmissions misconstrued; entropy approaches stealthy, pervasive. Where does one begin and the other end?

Glimpse the Void

The wind carries a sound like a tentative reality, almost a question.