The clocks melt into puddles of yesterday's breezes, inscribing tales upon the backs of slumbering cats. With each tick, a butterfly is born, wandering the void between what is and what might never be.
The moon whispers secrets in a tongue forgotten by all but the wind, carrying shards of crystalline laughter. In this place, the landscape shifts like a restless soul longing for the embrace of dawn.
Have you ever seen a shadow chase its own tail on the brink of a valley? An echo responds with a voice of its own, singing hymns to the stars that ought to know better.
As the horizon bends, we find ourselves lost in the dance of dusk and dreams, where the rain paints symphonies across the skin of the earth.