The whispers of the old carousel in the forgotten park spoke languages unlearned, but everyone understood the lullaby’s secret chorus. The night that leaned on the brass poles could be trusted; its tales traveled beyond the gravity of memory into the bright abyss.
Sand slipped through the fingers of sleeping giants. They heard melodies of metal beasts as they stirred beneath layers of moss and dreams. In dreams, they were caught between the infinite loops of time and space, chasing the glimmers of hidden fires yet to be ignited.
In the lands where the carousel stands still, the horizon paints the sky with codes of forgotten words. The children watch as the autumn leaves form tangents of stories untold, devising the landscape of imagines past and futures known yet unattainable.