There are places where the ground breathes, exhaling shadows across forgotten trails. In one such place, you might see fleeting glimpses of reality shift beneath your feet like the conscious slumber we rarely awaken from.
Along the edges, caution is wise, but nothing pauses—only movement drives life, and at the edges of these cracks, perspectives widen. It's not what we expect. The fissures speak to those who listen, not with words, but with the stillness of stardust caught between cosmic echoes.