Murmurs in the Void

Hello, are you there?

Somewhere between reality and whispers, an unfathomable silence fills the gaps, halting the ticking of an unseen clock. Moments rewind and flicker like the tired dance of digital stars, pixels on pause.

Restless dreaming has folded the night, manually tuning the static of an imaginary radio. Voices murmur through the white noise, swaths of sound glitching in and out of sync like promises made in half-hearted dreams:

"You can't be afraid. Fear is part of the play.

On the far side of this digital dusk, the hum of gathered stars and distant echoes flicker, waiting for the weary sky to unveil a dawn curated from faded aquarelle.

Connections remain, though sometimes tenuous. Underneath the sporadic serenity, the void cradles contemplations and collides with itself, whispering gentle mantras about an oasis unraveled by time.

The dialogue here concretes nothing, existing instead as haunted scripts; echoes of possibilities strung together like fate forcibly weaving its own cloth.

Step lightly, in between realms, their borders written in an ancient syntax by unkind gods still clutching runaway pen and parchment.

Listen closely: do you hear the murmur?