In the abyss, time mutes. Remember? Lapse again. The clock's hands are shadows.
A flicker, then darkness: remember the sound of the wind singing to the rocks, but wait, it's the rivulet's laughter, cascading into sleep. Have you ever tasted silence? It tastes of burnt gold and forgotten promises. Step with care; the ground is covered in mossy lies.
Distorted figures dance behind your closed eyes. You know them—or do you? A memory held in treacle, slipping, slipping... Imagine words you never spoke, the echo of a conversation at the edge of sanity.