Labyrinths of tall marble walls, adorned with exquisite ligature of patterns. The cloudless sky, the sunny heat, the still air. Shelters under arched towards the sky vaults. Venues paved with polished stone slabs. Oases of gardens with fountains and paths. Time slowed down resting.
Quiet, subtle string music inscribed in this place like the veins of capillaries of glowed leaves. Whether the music was the source that revealed this place, or was the place itself emanating this music as a reflection, a sound hologram of its own self?
Somewhere about inconspicuous nooks, hiding among dimly gleaming reflections, there are employees performing unusual work. In the silence of flawlessly smooth stones, keeping the depths of Wonderland, employees save up music from all over the world, and carefully listen. By only known to them criteria they note some melodies. This happens very rarely. The lion's share of melodies is discarded.
Their musical selections they send further. Their recipient is the one who listens. He calls himself simply: listener. Then, the response comes from him, always the same: continue the search.
Many centuries and millennia this place exists. His employees, like gold seekers, sift the melodies of the whole world through the sieves of their perceptions, and send it to the listener. The answer is always the same: continue searching...