Embodying the melancholic joys, I tumble, spiraling from a night-darkened cocoon. Darkened pathways of endless memories unfolding beneath the weight of greed - insignificance echoed in twilight. The world takes form as a giant green canvas smeared with half-realized shades of beige and togetherness. A mere hop, a skip, and splat! Upon reflective tempered glass!
Reflections fracture at my tender impact while tiny silhouettes race ahead, oblivious thunder echoes all around. Green leaves clutched in despair weave tales of ancient winds lost in the arboretum. Up here—on transient gestures of air—I shimmer, straining through layers of forgotten clouds, dusted with vaporous time, fields poised to receive whispers of ever-escaping dreams. My odyssey is complicated—luminous droplets among terrestrial lives!
"Blame it on geometry," keyboards hum in the distance, neither conscious nor sensible words concealed beneath persistent drumming echoed by streetlight symphonies—rude awakenings punctuated with concern. I beckon once more through the prism—linking unseen pulsars transcending citizens comfortably residing in mirrored reflections. Another drop, another memory, merging the moment as if single shards colluding in splendor.
And there it is! A hint, a stain, a curious imprint; nectar of ionizing heroes dancing across porcelain skin... Only to spill, vanish autumn-like into marble depths, making avenues murkier as anticipation beckons like time itself. छोटे चाँदासंदेराजा—whispers fold back upon themselves in kaleidoscopic stillness while glassy empires drift apart amidst notes modernity never intended.
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