In the trembling depths, shadows whisper words unspoken, forgotten paths intertwine like roots beneath the surface, grasping for lost memories.
In the alcove of silence, kaleidoscopic dreams fizz and pop like stardust healing the void.
Where time flows backward in ripples like veils of incense, mingle with specters draped in whispers of third moonrise.
A clock without hands ticks into the hidden corners of tomorrow, always waiting, always lost.
What shapes await among echoed refrains of the past? Reckless reveries? Or perhaps, ghostly snippets from futures yet to brew?