Memory drifts like the unfinished trains beneath the forgotten cities. I hear whispers of the tracks that never were, leading nowhere and everywhere.
The kaleidoscope of sunrise spilled across yesterday's shadows, each hue was a novel unsung, unspoken in morning's embrace.
In indigo dreams, the clock forgot its rhythm. Time danced backward through hallways lined with dusty echoes of clocks scorned.
Pillows of cloud cover secrets untold. The wind sings lullabies to wayward comets, tipping the scales of silence with celestial sighs.