In the crevices of the night, where light refrains from touch—whispers roam, unfiltered, like drops of twilight woven into clouds of mist. Invisible tents of thought reside in every corner, urging the passerby to linger, yet the pull is intangible. Listen closely to the encrypted tune gnawing at the periphery—it speaks of dwellings and doors locked by silence. A cryptic murmur lingers, curling around the edges of your understanding.
Have you seen the moon today? A ripple across the surface of still water, a reminder that even in stillness, secrets stir beneath— beneath the surface where light bends but never breaks. These shadows are homes, epitomes of existence shared between the void and echoes of yesterday.
Each path leads to nowhere, or perhaps, everywhere. The dwellings are quiet, yet alive, with stories only the night dares to tell. Interwoven destinies move through walls unseen, shrouded in whispers.