The clock had no hands, yet it echoed through the hall as if time was mocking presence. Are the shadows laughing? I recall a door opening, leading to nothingness, or was it a garden with mice wearing hats? Can't remember. Endless corridors winding, twisting, turning where right is the new left, and up is a concept long abandoned. A gentle pull, a string tied to a balloon drifting beyond the skies of yesterday, carrying whispers of tomorrow's forgotten echoes.
I walked upside down on a bridge made of glass and dream. Beneath the surface, fish spoke in riddles, yet I understood not a word. Morning dew glistened like tiny stars captured in moments of silence. Laughing children danced with shadows, their faces familiar yet distant. The pages turned themselves, a story untold echoing in the corners of the mind. Where do we go when we forget? To what land do dreams flee when the light of day breaks?
Waves crashing against the walls of memory, each drop a moment lost to time. Did I dream of flying fish? Or was it a sky painted with whispers of the past? I cannot tell. The sea calls, an old song sung by stones and trees. In the distance, a lighthouse flickers, guiding lost souls back home. Paths retraced, steps in the sand washed away by time, yet the echo of our laughter remains. Will it ever fade?