In the whispered corridors of the forgotten, where steps once traced stories, lies the echo of footprints.
These impressions in the dust, stark yet elusive, tell tales only to those who listen to the silence. Each mark is an invitation, a direction, a promise of destinations that shimmer under the gaze of unseen stars.
Yet these paths lead nowhere, only to themselves, and in their solitude, they reflect an existence not tethered to map or memory but rooted in the essence of being.
Such is the dance of the echo, a reverberation across time and space, caught in the shimmer of an unending horizon.