In the twilight, where fragments of forgotten speech linger, a voice like the rustling of ancient papyrus speaks. Etched by dainty whims of a shadowed hand,
these words, echoes from a world that has not yet ceased to dream, tell tales of realms spun from silken night.

Beneath the skin of reality, where time drips like a melting glyph, soft murmurs of the etching winds collide. Listen, as they whisper secrets
of forgotten tongues and fading starlight.

Embedded within the sands of neverland, these hieroglyphs of dusk
trace maps to lost moments, phantoms etched in eternity's breath.