The Muted Realm

In the midst of a cacophony, the whispers gather under shadows, left abandoned by light. They tread carefully, along the edges of a world unspoken. Echoes tear silently at the fabric of the present, threads dissolving into the muted realm.

Here, in the dimness, the air is thick with thoughts unvoiced. They dance around the periphery of consciousness, beckoning with an allure both haunting and beautiful. Each thought hangs suspended, a delicate whisper on the brink of oblivion.