The horizon whispered to Clara as she stepped into the mist, her feet barely kissing the damp sand before dancing away. Every wave bowed to her, falling into patterns known only to the heart's rhythm.
"Do you hear the colors speak?" inquired a voice that hovered just above the ground, ethereal and unseen.
Clara tilted her head, "Only in shades of silence and echoes of forgotten dreams." The gravity of their words spiraled upward, as if the dialogue wished to escape the bonds of Earth itself.
"Then let us float, my invisible friend," the voice replied, "upon this sea of suspended thoughts."
Together, they forged paths through the air, surfing on tides of whispered wishes, soaring above the mundane shores of reality. Laughter rippled through the clouds, each note a droplet that joined the ocean's symphony.
Moments morphed into hours, yet time here was fickle, often entertaining the whims of the wind. A tree stood tall—its branches reaching for the roots buried deep in the sky.
Here, Clara's solitude cradled her, a comforting weight against the lightness of unspoken words. Would they ever find gravity in a world so keen on floating?
Explore further: Dreamscape | Whimsy of Words