The Story
Every palace begins with a single room. This one began with a pen mark on parchment, a wobbly circle that refused to close perfectly. That imperfection became the first door.
Behind the door: a gallery of shapes arranged without order, each one a capsule of color and feeling. Triangles pointing toward questions. Circles enclosing answers that shift with the light.
The palace grows as you walk through it. Each room remembers your visit and rearranges itself for the next. Nothing here is permanent except the feeling that you have been here before, in a dream drawn with a steady but human hand.