Whispers dart through dimly lit hallways, the fog of hesitation creeping into the cracks of solace. Hands that reach out but fail to connect—a dance of distant echoes.
Consider the moth, dancing around the flickering light, it knows not the flame, yet-driven by an unquenched quest for warmth. Time bends, reality distorts, and nowhere you are ever alone.
A figure haunts the periphery of your vision—blurred, enshrined in ambiguity—a reminder that existence is painted in shades of gray, a jigsaw with fading edges.
Wander Lost Reflections of the Mind Untangle the Fates