You ever think about the paths not taken? Oh, the forks in the road that never were, and the junctures in time that didn't quite happen. Somewhere in those invisible choices, there's a universe where I’m not writing this and you’re... well, who knows?
Suspended in thought, dreams crystallize like amber clutching a wayward fly.
Picture it: amber skies, a world where coffee tastes like memories and books are written by the wind. Can you feel the breeze, or is that just a metaphor gone astray?
Every now and then I find myself pondering these things, sitting at the edge of an imaginary cliff, watching over digital oceans and pixelated sunsets.