In a quiet corner of the world, where the wind whispers through the trees and the sun casts long shadows on the ground, there exists a place that is both beautiful and haunting. It is not a prison, nor a sanctuary, but something in between — a place known only as Cages.

At first glance, Cages appears to be nothing more than a collection of old, rusted structures scattered across an abandoned field. Some are tall and narrow, like the bars of a medieval tower. Others are low and wide, almost like the remains of a forgotten barn. They stand silently, as if waiting for someone to come and remember them.

But those who have visited Cages say that it is more than just a place. It is a feeling. A memory. A moment suspended in time.

Some believe that Cages was once a home — a place where people lived, loved, and lost. Others think it was a prison, though not for humans. Perhaps it was a place where animals were kept, or where dreams were trapped. No one knows for sure.

What is certain, however, is that Cages has a way of changing those who enter it. The air feels heavier, the silence deeper. Time seems to slow, and the outside world fades away. Some say they hear voices — faint, distant, like echoes from another life.

There are stories of people who have wandered into Cages and never returned. Others claim they came out changed, carrying with them a strange sense of freedom, as if something had been set free inside them.

The truth about Cages may never be known. It is not a place you can find on a map, nor a destination you can reach by following directions. It finds you when you are ready. When you are looking for something — or trying to escape from it.

And so, Cages remains, standing in the quiet, watching, waiting. Not to trap, but to remind.

To remind us that we are all, in some way, caged. By our fears, our pasts, our choices. But also, by the possibility of breaking free.