There Were Houses, But No Inhabitants

Under this sky, time itself had paused—a fragile, illusory pause, like holding breath underwater, caught between realities. The desert stretched infinitely, whispering secrets that dissolved before they could be grasped. There were houses, but no inhabitants; rivers that led nowhere; colors that faded softly into oblivion. The black feline wandered through the landscape as if searching for a misplaced shadow, or perhaps it was the shadow itself searching for a lost origin. Above, planets hovered quietly, aligned yet indifferent, distant eyes witnessing an endless melancholy of dreams forgotten before they ever began. Here, existence felt like a carefully maintained illusion, ever at risk of unraveling into silence, leaving behind only the memory of a world that never truly was.