The Alchemical Dreams
Footprints Leading Nowhere
The rain-soaked streets reflect a world upside down, yet here they are, footprints, leading into a haze. Familiar and strange, they carve a pattern in the dark asphalt, like a map without a destination.
She paused, observing them, each step a whisper of a story untold. In the morning mist, the footprints beckoned, promising answers and unfolding mysteries. But who had made them? And where would they lead when the shadows spoke in a tongue she did not understand?
In the silence, stars thaw,
silent oceans echo,
footprints in frost,
whispers of wandering souls.