In the evening's embrace, the clouds whisper secrets of olive trees and distant echoes of laughter. Do you listen?
They walk upon the ceiling now, those souls tethered to silk threads stretching across forgotten hallways. Bind your sight to theirs—
An eternal chandelier flickers in the stagnant air, casting shadows of unknown patterns. What shape do you see? Illusions... yet they persist.
Reflective pools of ink form in the heart of celestial chatter. Can you hear the truth echo within them, or is it but a dream of harvest moons?
A moth's wing whispers the story of golden twilight lands, where laughter once roamed freely before the dusk fell.