The clock never really ticks in this place, where the air hums with secrets untold, unraveling stories that fade before they're grasped. A soft rustle echoes the turn of whispered pages.
In the margins of time, silence scribbles—doodles of forgotten epochs etched into the canvas of memory. The lines curve, sway, and breathe like a gentle sigh of reminiscence.
Sunlight spills through invisible cracks, illuminating ghostly traces of laughter, woven between the words of an eternal book left half-open. What tales unfold if one dares to listen?
Here, in this whispering world, shadows speak and the wind carries tales of wonder, waiting for someone to unveil their ceaseless dance of light and shadow.