In the silence of the tangible, whispers echo outwards. The wind carries them, yet they dissolve into particles of thought, unmeasured and unseen. Are they shadows of sound or sounds of shadows?
Imagine a space where quantum strings vibrate with intentions. Here, the acoustic shadow cast by a breath less taken, is an enigma entangled in time's paradox. Can you see it?
A question posits itself: in a world where sound can exist only as potential, what narratives do the echoes weave in the void? The waveform waltzes to an infinite rhythm without consideration of its end.