Balderdash

Chapter I: The Whisper of Forgotten Days

There is a path, they say, hidden in the framework of waking memory. An unspoken road map unheard amidst the cacophony of mundane glances.

She stepped or sailed, no one knew which, carried by rueful winds of introspection. "What is time," mused the ash on her fingers, "if not a crutch for the sober dreams?"

Chapter II: The Silence of Presentation

The sands in vain shall echo silently through the corridors of misunderstanding. Here lies the precipice of thought collected, you see?

Through the telescope of oblique intentions, the starry chasm expanded, infinitely signifying matters unresolved — balderdash for the unengaged.