In a library made of stars, tucked within a whispering nebula, a dream catcher of tangential thoughts hangs between realities.
While one hand writes the script of ordinary days, the other dreams in flux; liquids dance in quantum tulips.
A boy pulls strings of time, catching silken echoes that slip through the pages of ink, wild and unconfined.
Reality bends softly like an old oak, a promise whispered in twilight. Cats with quantum souls roam alleys wrapped in paradox, while dreams bleed through walls, onto the polished floors of evening.
The sound of a typewriter sings to the rhythm of the universe, letters spinning in double helix waltzes, definitive chaos embraced by a danceless ballerina.