The sound of note fragments, diving in and out amongst the shadows weaving like thread spun by dreaming hands. Is it the longing of muscly armored creatures or a distant call lost in phonetic cages of dissolving memory streams.
Electric whispers poke their fingers at the seams of existence where time hesitates. You're walking through corridors made of thought, the echo of uncertainty comforting a spectral rhythm binds with its untamed melody in opti-impressions.
The space between spaces, the points where they collapse together form everything, and nothing becomes something else – an elemental timekeeper sweeping layers of haze, misty and ethereal, arcane time frozen in motion. Birds like timbre dance articulation-less across azure waves of skylike unreality.
Here, pages fade to whispers that seep into the mind; trails of soft murmurs lead unto nowhere, kisses from innumerable shimmering particles fall as dimensions shred - vaporize.
hidden paths expose the weaver speaks shadows that play tricks