Distant echoes whisper of forgotten paths, through shadows of pixelated light, where realities twist like
paper cranes folding into the infinite night—trace your fingers across the bruise of time, as the ...
stars dissolve, blinking in and out like a half-remembered dream.
A cacophony of thoughts collide, wearing coats of fluorescent technicolor. Was it an insect or a shard of glass?
Questions swim like fish in a basin of frantic abstraction, and laughter lingers, like heat on cracked concrete.
Underneath the rubble of cybernetic whispers, do you recall that song? Play it on upside-down keys, as echoes reality
glitch again—forever rearranging, poking the paradox in a maze where every corner reflects echoes of laughter.