Is it true that long-lost divers carry the weight of echoes? Ghosts of fish from yesterday swim through dreams, distorted reflections in the water’s surface.
Submarine memories rise, shuddering waves coat the walls. Do you hear the murmurs beneath the crust? Perhaps it’s the flicker of stars far from reach…
Yellow spiral lamps illuminate forgotten passages. Works of art bleed irrational algorithms, black ink soaked in thin air.
The salt from tears merges with the fragility of breath submerged. Signals clash in static; do they mourn past lives or just wander lost?
Gathering straws from the broom of clarity, I seek webs of fractured time tendrils. Words float aimless and careless as drifting pulses of squid ink before forgotten currents.
Click here for the drifting notion of rediscovered realms or slip elsewhere into the mystified depths.