In an investigation traversing the seamless estate of sound and absence, the prevailing question arises: What becomes of harmony when silence itself echoes along the corridors? Scholars of acoustic history report that these reflections possess a music of their own, intangible yet profoundly felt.
An account from the empty halls of the Old Town Library suggests that such murmurs may be remnants of conversations no longer spoken, thus remaining forever in twilight, like conversations among ghosts.
The expedient silence has indeed established a narrative for itself—observed by lone custodians, it attests to a rhythm that is often overlooked in bustling human environments. The research posits that familiar sounds of footsteps or shuffling papers act as rhythmic beats holding the potentiality of a silent symphony.