In gardens where echoes blossom, sounds take flight upon the winds. A whisper clad in moonlight traces patterns, unfurling tales of yore, where crysanthemums bloom in silence, cradling the secrets of the stars.
Does a voice remember before it spoke? In murmured shades, you hear untold songs—symphonies woven from stardust, remnant breeze of wandering comets etching fables on the void's canvas.
Follow the shadow path to find voices haunting the border where dreams slalom, bending in odd nomenclature. Listen closely to your own reflection—do you echo as well?
Traversing this genesis of the unseen, you might chance upon whispering trees, guardians of forgotten songs and ephemeral chants caught in the flicker of reality.