Once the world tasted green rain, reflective of alien truths, nestled between nostalgic dreams, and the bitterness of betrayal.
A figure, shaped like mist, wandered through the colors, chasing laughter that reverberated like the sound of glass breaking on a cracked floor.
Upon the hill, where souls intertwined as kites, a refrain emerged; "What is remembrance but an echo reflecting from the void?" The answer swayed, forgotten next to the crimson skies.
Fragments of a tale weave through a crowd, as the bird named "Reality" sings discordant notes amidst petals made of whispers.
At dusk, the horizon dripped with neon veins, ripping apart past and future, where uncertainty kissed sympathy in the shade of an acid rainbow.
Journey deeper into this canvas; shadow still breathes behind every whisper of your own echo, adventure awaits and the reflections beckon.
What is color if not the emotion of every heart forgotten? Vibrations of laughter turned sorrow, rippling underfoot as time dissolves into pastel sunsets.
Invoke your ghosts; show them the landscapes painted with existential dread.