At the edge of reality, there awaits a gate, shimmered with hues of unidentifiable origins. The wallpaper peels, revealing marbled thoughts that pulsate with electrical hues divine—a dance of colors as if handcrafted by the eerie spirits of neurology.
What does it mean to reflect? Perhaps light refracting in a funhouse mirror poses questions without answers, warped visions gleaming like distant stars. Each ripple askew, each unsolid curve shaping notions of what we truly desire versus what we reflect.
And yet, within the veil of uncertainty sleeps beauty paradoxical; the agony of knowing is entwined with wonder. Is the phantom elation a remnants of joy, or merely a luminescent echo from ages unknown, striking down shadows within the vessel we persist corporeally?
Because gazing forward paints naiveté trivial against our soul’s deep longing, an ache enmeshed in muscle and sinew endlessly echoing since the first burst of light. Distortion facilitates clarity; living is compressing circular infinity into paintless strokes.
So here we wander... Echoes of What-If and Resonance of Memories enliven our paths again.