Inside the heart of a unending take off, where without a doubt the sun challenged not hold up as well long, stood the Space of Nothing. Not carved from stone or built with gold, but from quiet, shadows, and ignored dreams. It was an domain not of arrive or wealth, but of absence—a kingdom where memories ruled and echoes were the because it were citizens.
Once, it might have been something. Possibly there were people, snickering, battles combat, and tunes sung. But by and by, it was reasonable wind slipping through purge hallways, sand covering points of interest whose names had long been lost to time. The rulers of the Domain of Nothing were not rulers or rulers, but ideas—ambition, pride, fear—abstract powers that outlived the ones who made them.
It held control abnormally. Men were attracted to chase fantasies and develop structures that rise to the sky as within the occasion that to watch them drop isolated by the Space of Nothing's whispers into their hearts. It served as a upgrade of how quickly everything—love, greatness, and indeed agony—can obscure. And in any case people continued to reach. Visionaries, vagabonds, and people looking for out for reason in forsaken places. They walked through the discolored paths inside the trusts of finding something basic, because it were to be stood up to with the reality that in a few cases nothing exists.
But in fact inside the nothing, there's something. A lesson. A reflect. A caution. That the loudest spaces regularly conclusion in quiet. That what we develop without soul will unavoidably return to clean. The Space of Nothing doesn't require dividers to trap you—it basically holds up for you to ignore what really things.
