she whispers from the upside-down, where gravity caresses the clouds with gentle hands and words are made of liquid time.
is it true, she asks, or is it truth that flies when you’re not looking? Echoes answer in reverse, like a clock unraveling its yarn.

beneath the stars that belong to no one, two shadows argue with the light of borrowed suns. echoes fall like feathers amidst silent storms, and one sings the tune of forgotten lakes.

when the wind speaks in alphabets of rust, listen. listen to the colors that dance like shadows on old photographs, without a past to remember, without a future to grasp.