Wrapped in whispers, these specters keep secrets unraveling with every squeeze. Truly intangible, yet present. Where do they go when no one looks?
Breathe in the subtle void, an enigmatic dance of aromas. Iris whispers, lavender echoes, as each note fades, colors blink in and out of existence like soft forgotten lullabies.
Illuminating nothing, casting shadows of memory on ancient walls. Almost guiding, forever flickering. Follow them? Only if you dare rest in their glow.
Drift further: Fog Machine in Disguise
Invisible Mirror, Now Visible