Beneath the layer of candied drapes, reality presents itself. An infusion of neglected thoughts, whispers through the tapestry of confectionary delight.
She considered the essence of a cherry. A singular atom split, and in that moment, the essence scattered into nothing. Yet, it lingered.
The tablecloth remembered the echo of laughter. In the reverberation, she found herself, an incomplete half sipping tea beyond the confines of her time.
Tartlets were never simple sweets but nuanced exchanges that occurred over silken liners. Savory Echoes that beckoned from another age of culinary lore.
Reflect upon sauce prints left on porcelain, evidence of an earlier dip into the senses. Maybe, she thought, just perhaps, time conceived its own dessert.
The dish would never leave empty, for it contained possibilities to be crafted and rearranged, repeating themselves like quiet clocks against the bricked background.
Travel further through these doors of gustatory illusions.