In the labyrinthine depths of every dancer's soul, where shadows pirouette as the clock's relentless ticking fades, there exists a place, both familiar and yet alien, a deep visceral orchestra playing notes unseen, unheard, and unimagined, where each step on the wooden floorboards tells stories of forgotten lands and the echoes of ancient footsteps that once led a procession under the watchful gaze of a pale crescent moon and a starry, twinkling sky.
The message arrived like a breeze through cracked windows, soft but insistent:
"If the walls begin to hum, let your body become their hymn, their longing tune that lingers in corridors unseen."