Time dripped backwards like melted clocks, each moment forging a new reality over the whispers of forgotten souls. The scent of unspoken words lingered between the gears of an old clocktower.
An ode to the silent bass line of a jazz guitar played for the ghosts of the wandering. A child scribbles mathematics in the air, equations unraveling, sending butterflies fluttering in a sepia-tinted dusk. Each breath echoes with the sound of distant thunder.
One day, amidst the flickering memories of twilight, I wandered into a city made of shadows, where streetlights sang lullabies to the rising fog.
A moment of infinity slipped through my fingers, embedding itself in an echo-pool of déjà vu that can only be accessed through rainy Thursdays.
Hopscotch through time with distant stars and candlelit dreams. As hearts unwind, laughter dangles, vaporous like cotton candy on a carnival night.
Dance with the unspoken vapors →
A place where puddles mirror the moon's laughter; watch the steam escaping from your gaze, swirling like ribbons caught in a spectral deluge.
Incidents fractal, breaking loops of existence; did you ever breathe in wishes before they fled, bridging unseen paths?
Embrace the image of static confusion →