In the land of perpetual pause, where dreams are whispered into the vacuum of unintended consequences, footsteps echo in an ironic symphony. Here, the silent ambitions dance in circles, tracing paths to nowhere, leaving only the ephemeral trace of aspirations lost in translation.
Beneath the weighty gaze of the unblinking Moon, we question the validity of success, measured in the invisible metrics of coffee breaks and daydreams. Yet, the etchings on this ground, freshly pressed, tell a story of determinists who stopped to reconsider their paths — only to find them all leading back to their own front porches.
And so, the horizon stretches, a solemn reminder that in the theatre of dreams, the actors remain perpetually backstage. The satirical script demands their entrance, yet the stage is set for a performance of shadows, where the audience, too, is part of the act.