In the beginning, or perhaps the end, there lies a thread spun from dreams, woven into the tapestry of forgotten thoughts. The sky, a canvas of whispered blues, glimmers with secrets only known to those who dare listen.
Light dances upon the surface of the mind, a reflection of what was, a shadow of what might be. Blindfolded, yet seeing, the wanderers traverse the landscape of their own making.
And then, the rain. It falls, not with sound but with a silent embrace, each droplet a memory of the earth's caress. Silence becomes a friend, a companion on this journey through the folds of time.
What is seen cannot be unseen, and what is felt cannot be forgotten. Echoes of laughter ripple through the haze; a melody only the ether can sing. Echoes of a song, a song that knows no beginning nor end.
Would you discover the path, or would you let the path discover you? In this dance of shadows and light, the answers lie hidden, waiting to be unearthed by a curious soul.