The invisible yet palpable. Guide yourself not by sight, but feel the shape of absence.
Each phantom ache, a message in a forgotten language. Listen to the echoes in your shadowy cortex. Gently brush where the appendage once resided, for memory's touch is like a moth's wing.
Draw an invisible map. Annotate every tingle, every brush of the wind. These are not mere tricks. They are pathways. Routes to exploring what once was, like stumbling upon forgotten trails in a familiar forest.
In the mind's eye, relearn the gestures. The dance of the phantom limb is both strange and beautiful. With practice, you may conjure its form, a ghostly waltz in a dimly lit room.
Return the Echo Trace the Memory