In the heart of an emerald night, where hues sing songs unheard, the river hums softly, caressing the stars with echoes of forgotten dreams. Every shade is a note, every shadow a silent verse. Beneath the night sky, a moth dances to the symphony of the void; do you hear it?
The clouds weave stories above, threads of silver and whispers of past elixirs. Here, reality tilts, drips like honey off a warm gentle edge. Echoes of laughter skitter like loose change across endless tables. Who spins these tales of daydreams?
You walk the line between senses—between skin and silk, breath and perfume. Why not dive into the colors? Let the songs wrap around your thoughts and color your silence.
Perhaps you will find your own daydreams reflected in another path, or perhaps in the depths of forgotten sounds.