What if the stars remembered something we forgot, locked in their eternal dance far beyond our reach... Fingers tracing invisible paths, jigsaw pieces scattered across the cosmos, waiting for the right hand to assemble them in whispered shadow... Empty pockets filled with echoes, again the thought crosses, or is it recrossed?
— Somewhere, a door creaks open to a room filled with unspun thoughts, where afternoons nap lazily on woven chairs, — a whisper, a tremor, "Here lies the puzzle, not to be solved but felt." Beyond horizons, forgotten maps call out with pen strokes faded by time, inviting you to trace their lines and loose ends.
Continue to walk the shores of the unseen, where every grain holds a story, cradled by the embrace of the tide.