Once upon a night, under the watchful gaze of shimmering enigmas, we laid out the shadows. "What do you see?" she asked, tracing patterns with fingertips like whispers. The answer was in the dance of stars, a cosmic ballet written in broken constellations.
Now, shadows don't speak, but they hum. It's a melody that twists in and out of understanding; like a song sung by old, forgotten gods. Perhaps you remember it, or perhaps you imagine you do. Either way, the echoes remain.