In the amber-lit gloom of a forgotten parlour, where the walls were draped with tapestries of crystalline webs, the echoes of laughter danced like fireflies in an ethereal coliseum.
There lay a bowl of stars, or was it sugar? The particles mingled, a clandestine meeting of the ephemeral and the eternal, mingling in the licorice twilight.
The soft chiming of distant rain piercing through silken curtains, a symphony played on the borders of land and thought, held close by a vivid dream of solitary blooms and moonlit serenades.
Do you remember, beneath the ancient tree, where shadows whispered secrets their roots could not keep? There lingers a taste of time itself, trapped in the dew, forever turning in the spiral dance.