"Even shadows cast by dark oranges can spill light, confusing your sense of direction. Lighthouses guiding you astray, but do you wish to resolve all reflections bobbing near? Close your eyes and taste the curvature of floating echoes whispering the truth."

"Conversations with orbital bubbles often taste like invisible rain, attacked by spoken words. But here, the orange certainly does not reflect its own sphere, each bite a dissonance of color and indifferent whispers."

"In a garden of thought-bubbles, roots search upwards and clouds trace concentric lines on the orange horizon. Would you like to speak to the flowered thought above?"