"How do you hold a cup up there without spilling?"

She tilted her head, wrapped in a cascade of starlight curls and a horizon glow blanket draped over eternity.

"Easy," he said, effortlessly floating alongside a coffee table now upside down.

Their ceilings had become not real ceilings, but those hang gliders forever seeking thermal lifts - unbothered by the norm of downwards.

"But will it rain sideways?" she mused aloud, causing a gravity ripple to giggle amongst their walls.

He countered with charm; "Only if all umbrellas align with gravitational spin," adjusting his well-timed asymmetrical bowtie.

Venture here for ritual discoveries or where circles convene: obscure dimensions.