Words unwritten, a quill with no ink. The ethereal shrouded with truth, lies that keep the mundane from taking hold. Stories, untold - Only whispered, only carried by winds unfelt but by those who listen closely. So listen, between these lines you might find echoes of a voice you once had. One you silenced in favor of normalcy. One you locked away deep within the pages of your heart, the very ones you forbade every soul that came close from reading. The very ones that stoke the fire you so very desperately desire. For thine eyes only, you kindred spirits who share the fate of looking from a distance.