Once upon a not-so-long time ago, in a twisty maze of saffron dawns and beige dusk, the worlds all paused on Solstice Eve to ask questions wrapped in velvet whispers and kitten curls.
In a garden where the clocks take naps, what color is the melody made when mirrors wink at purple fog?
Solstice sun, like a shy bunny, sometimes hides but always sees the invisible paths where shadows dance in spiral twirls and wobble-lobble wobble-lobble likes.
If you befriend the Moon, ask her how many tickles a star can carry, and she will answer with secret hums that only owls wearing purple capes understand.
And, oh, dear traveler, did you hear about the Ever-Sun that spins backwards on Tuesdays? It is the light that forgot about all its solstice shoes and dances barefoot on the dream clouds.
Dance to the Labyrinthine Moon