Echoes of forgotten lexicons sing through the vowels.
A portal opens, fringed with the melody of time.
The words drift like autumn leaves, suspended in the void.
Enter the EchoThe clock ticked differently on the other side; an obsolete guide discarded in a drawer, yet its shadows danced on the walls.
In a fickle moment, a cry of vowels turned into a symphony of forgotten dreams, weaving stories about realms uncharted.
Once, there was a ship sailing on a sea of ink, with letters as its sails, charting the skies of an imaginary alphabet.
The wind carried whispers, not of words, but of the spaces between them, resonating with truths untold.
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