Mirrors reflect, yes, but have you ever listened to their whispers? In the intersections of the unspoken, there spins a quiet dance, a kaleidoscope of absence. Here, wander through corridors where echoes of yesterday's tomorrow ripple through veils of sleep. Touch the petals of silent echoes, each a tiny universe bobbing on dreams yet unraveled.
Stand at the crossroads of thought. Where two moons cast twin shadows, a memory smiles and folds. Find yourself unfurling like whispers in the lull between breaths. A door creaks without a wind, leading inward, always inward— where pulse and quiet are one.