The shadows dance in the silence of the empty halls, painting stories of light in the absence of sound. They whisper possibilities.
Here, I awoke to the echoes of shapes without form, memories fragmented in the absence of reality. The realm sighs, breathing dreams not lived.
Once upon a time—or perhaps never—there was a door, and it spoke in a language only understood by the dust collecting on its frame. Through it lies eternity.
The walls speak in whispers, fading in and out like the memories they used to contain. Listen—if you dare—to their secrets.
Somewhere, a clock counts time that no one can see. Forever its hands, they say, turning with the rhythm of dreams unspoken.
In this realm, silence speaks louder than words—a symphony of solitude. Here, I am whole, yet I am nothing. The void embraces me softly.