Behind every glittering surface lies a history of scars.
We chase illusions, wrapped in the promise of fulfillment, only to find shadows dancing at the periphery of our expectations.
Yet the ugliest truths often wear the most beautiful masks.
In the market of dreams, authenticity is barbaric. We are architects of our dissatisfaction, building castles on shifting sands.
Success, they say, is a journey. Yet many are left stranded, lost in transit, their tickets expired, dreams receding into memory.
Echo of Deceptions The Castle of Delusions