Do you hear that sound? Like old leaves crumbling under them. The wind carries secrets—did you ever become part of someone’s story without knowing?
In another room, perhaps another life, children play a game where shadows don't follow them. They giggle stories twisting in ways only understood through murmurs.
The distant tone, like a choir unheard, may guide you, or it could unravel something masked by silence. Follow the echoes.
Questions float—unspoken, yet you might catch their drift. Each step alters the ground below, or is it above?
There's always a fork in dreams, where night glimmers underfoot, outshining reason.