As the sun dipped below the horizon, the child's eyes sparkled with tales never told. A whisper from the trees, the secrets of the stars. How do I capture them? Little notes, tucked in the corner of my mind, waiting for a day to be revealed.
Sometimes, I draw maps in the sand. Maps to places I've never been, but feel I've known forever. There's a method in my madness, a path traced by invisible fingers in the twilight.
When the world falls asleep, my thoughts become wild. A frog king, a bicycle made of stars, and the song of a wind that speaks words only children understand.
Follow the Echoes | Trace the Dream Map