Imagine, if you will, a canvas poised with hope, stretching, reaching— each stroke a longing, each hue a sigh, where worlds converge softly, elegance draped in the veil of twilight. Time distorts, revealing our shadows elongated across dim embers.
Whispered secrets lost between breaths of molten dusk, moving through forks in reality; herein lies the tender ache.
Transactions of lost loves rebound through ether; exquisite humans humming ancient algorithms. Eyes entwined in the syntax of souls, hands scripting dreams deeper than night's embrace.