In a world unpinned, ideas flutter like butterflies escaping the eternal collector's net.
Visions ripple beneath the surface, murmur in layers unseen and understood.
The impossible blooms like black tulips on hills of white sand, a dance both curious and tormented.
A journey embarked upon with neither starting point nor destination, tethered only by the frail thread of desire.
Do not succumb to the static dreams of the stone-blind night; a lonesome shadow against walls of thought.
Blurring Edges Window Dreams