...... The clock ticks backward in a room where shadows refuse the light, scrambling to embrace the ungraspable concept of warmth. Once upon a time when time was a mere suggestion and the sky held secrets untold. The letters rearranged to form a dancing cat, and the cat danced, oh how it danced, upon the fragile skin of reality itself.
The pancakes wore hats while the syrup conspired with the butter in a cold, greasy alliance. How many dimensions must one fold to achieve the impossible sandwich? The echoes of yesterday's dreams ripple through the fabric like drops of paint on canvas stretching into infinity.
Whispers | Formation of Shadows