In the echoing embrace of yesterday's yonder: do you remember when time itself forgot to tick? The mornings of myth spun upon whispers gleamed with the laughter of the cosmos.
Eons past where sunsets first spoke of tomorrows, and the stars... oh, they danced!
Once, we spun stories like silk, each thread a fragment of a lost universe.
Cockleshells rang like phonecalls never made, tinkering with fate and destiny.
The air was painted with hues unseen, and melodies unmapped. Feel its rhythm, feel its pulse; it's beating just beneath layers of archaic time.