A labyrinth made by the physical limitations of the imagination.
A place that only the brave can explore and the ignorant endure.
A place where the walls breathe of silence and constant movement, a movement, that again, relys on the imagiantion of one`s self.
Images of light come from only the sound that is heard. The sounds that are produced are never ending echoes decaying off into the disance, dying to give off the acoustic light destine to the ear, but is never reached. The sound just dies off into the distance never ending... never ending... never ending...
