Time drips from the ceiling, the clock hands entangled in ivy. Shadows pour like liquid starlight as echoes of forgotten laughter intertwine with the fabric of daydreams.
What of the heart’s melody, a crescendo looping like the spiral of seashells, each note a petal in the wind’s waltz, soft and ephemeral? Every blink is an eternity stored in the jars of the mind.
A child swings in suspended animation, her giggles tangling with quantum particles, a construction of clouds and dusty corners. The streetlights hum in neons, an ode to unseen realms shadowed beyond the veil of dusk.
A glass eye, watching the metamorphosis of moments lost, captures whispers of forgotten conversations stitched in silvery threads, recalling secrets that no one remembers but the moon.
In the distance, a train, or perhaps a thought, approaches with a silence that rattles the soul, bringing with it the fragrance of unmade dreams, forever unconstructed.