Through Silence

Within corridors lined with whispers of forgotten truths, my thoughts spiral. They descend, always descending through the infinite space—a silence sculpted from echoes.

What is silence but a reverberation of absence? Philosophy forms in these gaps, as time wraps around itself in loops of analog clocks.

Here lies the labyrinth, not of walls, but of perceptions twisted upon their own meanings. Each silence beckons, challenging voids to confront the truths they suppress.

Though cubist corridors twist and twist, there comes a clarity in recursion: a silent spiral folding over the lost architectures of dreams.

Journey Further