Whisper on the winds, puffs of essence caught in liminal traps; shadows dance to frequencies unheard. Your journey—sketched upon evaporating fog—is neither lost nor found, a carousel of abstract certainties. The invisible grimoire, unbound, breathes. An echo of self, untethered from the gravity of reason, meanders through halls of forgotten storms. The dance floors are asteroids enmeshed in the vast ocean of what might have been. Touch the fog, reach deeper where reality melts away, and taste the colors hidden behind walls of time. "I once saw a star blink back... but perhaps." "The mirror speaks only syllables… no words." Glimmering in moonlight—serpentine thoughts that writhe, seeking hands to reach for new shapes in old lands. Tangents spiraling outward like cosmic dust imply secrets written in sands of the nascent desert. and yet, here we arrive...