The sun's reflection off a worn brass key, hidden beneath the forgotten piano vestiges. Clocks ticking in unsupported parallelism with fading echoes of laughter from the soulless forests.
A silver coin bearing the mark of a now-defunct myth. Midnight strolls beneath a sky of inverted pastels, as shadows of fish danced across umbrellas of wilted silk.
"Remember when the rain tasted like crystal?" he whispered, standing on firm ground where sand once ruled the world. Her eyes held the skyline's dew-laden secret.
An old photograph with no edges, simply a canvas of hues blending into stories untold. The carousel spins, but not here; it is in another universe entirely.