The child asked the stars, Are you dreaming, too?

She twirled her goldfinch around a night-ink sky and whispered secrets to the void.
"A universe of thought bubbles," she mused, "waiting to pop."

He replied, "What is a bubble that cannot float?"
They sat upon a swing, swaying between infinity and nothingness.

The ground was impatient. Always hungry.

Whispers of Forgotten Echoes
Another Crossing
Destination Unknown