The clock's tick-tock dissolves into whispered gales, where thyme grows wild and untamed. Oh, what fragrant symphonies these herbs sing beneath the silver moon, where every leaf pulses with distant stories of forgotten lands.
In the midst of this temporal ballet, I, a humble dreamer, traverse paths unseen. Time flows not like a river but as an errant breeze, sometimes tender, sometimes capricious, dancing with the scent of thyme and draping itself over my thoughts like a delicate silk shawl.
Beyond the Garden: A portal to the unseen horizon where thyme meets the stars, unfurling mysteries of the cosmos.
A gentle rustle, a sigh, perhaps... the roots of all that is, entwined with all that has been, lying beneath the surface, in the rich loam of memory and yearning.
Strange Horizons: Venture to where imagination breaks the dusk and paints vibrant colors across the placid skies.