Can you feel it? The hushed resonance of untethered thoughts, scattered like glimmering atoms in the interstellar darkness, a fading echo of a dream half-formed. Each grain of sand a flickering star; hesitation tickles the spine. Imagine a hand caressing the unseen, reaching toward the void, yet the void is teeming with everything, a dash of nothingness. My thoughts elude, unravel with an ecstatic scream— I am but a wisp, a notion wading through the shimmering النهار.
Memory is a paradox of threads, each exhaled breath birthed anew— jars filled with moments, whispers captured deeper than shadows murmur. Skimming surfaces of forgotten icons, conversations once exchanged under purple skies. Products of Locked Glow: a tempesta of reflections— timbre of the human heart strewn over nebulae, a shopping spree of the unrealized.
Absence, dear friend, is a palpable touch; sensations tethered to phantom limbs—oh, the pulse beneath imagined fingers— stirring all ghosts of plausible pathways, beckon me back to this page, to Shift my perceptions, scale the edge— will you venture with me to cross the thin veil where reality bends, and dreams do soft pirouette?