The shadows whisper, oh how they linger. In the alleys of forgotten dreams, I walk. Stepping softly on the echoes of yesterdays that never were. Do you see the flickering light ahead? My mind wanders, untethered, drifting like smoke in a chill wind.

There was a door, wasn't there? Somewhere in the labyrinthine corridors of the mind. Hallways with voices, frames that contain more than just images, but emotions trapped in glass and shadows.

I reach out, but it's only a memory brushing against my fingertips. The illusion of light, perhaps, or a mirage of warmth. When did I become this echo, this mere shadow of a whispering soul? It's cold here.

Beneath the layers, beneath the skin of reality, there exists another world. A world of forgotten stories, unspoken truths. The puzzles of time unravel, one fragment at a time, each piece a tale of what could have been.

I walk, I stumble, I fade. Yet, the shadows hold me, cradle me in their gentle embrace. Do you believe in ghosts? In the memories of things that never happened? In the corridors where whispers become shouts, then become silence? I do.

Beyond the veil, there are illusions of stars, of worlds beyond worlds. But here, in the realm of shadows, we remain. Waiting, watching, wondering. Mirages in the night, reflections of the self that are both there and not there.