As sunlight weaves through the trees, scattered tunes dance upon the surface of the soul. One drop glistens, holding a forgotten harmony—an echo from a world where colors sing and shadows play the flute.
"In the realm of sundrops, reality bends; time drips like honey, slow and sticky, leaving trails of warmth in the cool morning air."
Lost among these liquid rays, the heart recalls whispers of melodies long abandoned. Each note suspended like a delicate butterfly, fleeting yet eternal, in its glassy prison.
Wander, and you may find the hidden paths where yesterday's dreams lie dormant, waiting for a gentle breeze to awaken their slumbering songs.