Shadows speak in tremors, in languages unknown. Listen closely to the hollow sigh beneath the cloak of dusk. A word once uttered; now lost to the breaths of time.
My senses betray me, in alleyways dim and alleyways bright. Two paths diverge. Shadows whisper; solitude murmurs. Turn not away, for echoes follow you.
Conceptual dreams weaved in the fabric of decay, unravel in the light of shadows. Here lies the original guide, or was it an illusion?
What paths do shadows choose? What choice do whispers leave? Syllables adrift on waves cresting in oblivion.