Symbiotic paradoxes whispered between jagged edges, where reflections mutter in forgotten tongues.
The sky is an ocean, and fish forget how to breathe air. They swim through clouds, lost in the upside-down perspective.
In the between, the space nestles itself into permanence; contradictions lounge together, knitting dreams into realities never lived, yet always being.
Chandir watched from the periphery of a dream that never began—the mice were singing, harmonies rolling over the hills of imagined space.
A winding path beyond reach, never traveled, whispers secrets to paper cranes that fly beneath the earth. Do they precipitate rain, or is the rain a forgotten memory of flight?
Here lies the portal to nowhen. Time, that twisted ribbon of paradox, begs to be untangled. Turn the corner, find the invisible door unlocked with your absence.