Whispers of the Void

The ceiling fell away to reveal a peach sun disguised as a wild armchair attracting streaks of time.

Languages play tag beneath the overcooked cosmos.

With each turn of the wind, the silences speak louder than words; embrace the paradox, umbilical thread to glowing timelines.

Have you tasted shades of a forgotten ivy breeze?

Click to explore further into fragmented realities:

✨ Step into the Wormhole! ✨