In the hushed corridors of existence, where echoes weave tales of forgotten whispers,
the silence speaks in tones so profound. A melody of what once was, and what will never be.
Here lies a reflection, not of the face, but of the soul's subtle dance with the ephemeral.
Pause, breathe, and in this stillness find echoes of dreams long abandoned, like
shadows in twilight that flicker and fade. Listen to the voice of your own reveries.
It is not the void that fills this space, but a symphony of echoes singing to the silence.
Imagery fades like mist under the sun—each moment a ghost, each thought an echo.
Does the silence know you? Or is it you who knows the silence?
Let the reverberations of solitude touch the cores of your existence,
and in them discover your eternal reflections.