Imagine the grandeur of a melody, echoing through the halls of an empty cathedral, but played in reverse. Each note cascading back onto itself, each rhythm dissecting the space it flowed into. This is where truth meets the abyss, where clarity is found amidst chaos.
In the quiet towns, where the shadows grow longer as day succumbs to night, there exists a collective hum. It is the sound of a symphony whispered from lip to ear, a tune only known to those who tread the paths of lingering twilight.
On evenings when the wind carries more than just the scent of rain, pause and listen; you may hear it too. A tapestry of sound woven by hands no longer seen, orchestrating our silent realities.