In skies of cerulean, swans dance upon silent oceans, their songs echoing in the spaces between time.

Gilded clocks weep shadows long forgotten, on walls that whisper secrets of the stars.

A forest of glass, where trees are reflections, shattering in the light of a moon that knows no dawn.

Voids where echoes sleep, dreaming of things that cannot be spoken, yet linger in the air.