In the beginning, there was a whisper.
It echoed through time, unfurling like the petals of a forgotten flower.
Each division of its sound a reflection of eternity's silent laughter.
Do we ever truly recall a moment, or merely recreate its shadow on the wall of memory?
Fractals of thought spiraling inward, revealing the infinite complexity of simplicity.
An absurdity, they say, hidden in plain sight.
Can a farce be sincere?
When reality bends, and we dance the line between truth and fiction, what remains?
A whisper or a scream, the choice is an illusion.
Navigate the echoes:
The Labyrinth of Echoes
An Unexpected Epiphany
The Song of Silence