"Somewhere between dusk and waking, you hear whispers of the sidereal." A lattice of fleeting thoughts, forgotten codes wandering the void of memory.
"Do you remember the soggy sandwich beneath the park bench?" An absurd construction of coherent nonsense, meticulously crafted by lost gathering.
"Nothing lasts, but reminders paint clouds that obscure time." Here we weave these scraps of blurry recollections into webbed stories concocted from echoes.
Time distorts, fragments compare themselves, which line is truly straight? Have we found meaning among the crooked angles?