In corridors unseen, shadows whisper secrets. Antics played by unseen forces tease the edges of rational thought. I walk these corridors, feeling the presence of light and dark in equal measure, knowing they jest at my expense, yet feeling oddly comforted.
A lamp flickers in the distance, casting long shapes that move without purpose. The intuition strikes—these are no mere illusions. The shadows dance, rehearsing their tricks, their ancient jokes still sharp enough to cut.
There is a fear here, of knowing too much or too little. Anticipation, perhaps, of those whispered truths that once seemed harmless. These antics, though playful, hold a darkness I cannot define, yet I recognize, like a long-lost friend, hiding amongst familiar faces.
Follow the Echoes Seek Clarity