The lighthouse flickers in the distance, a beacon unseen yet known. Ships pass through the fog, whispered stories cling to their hulls, echoes of memories long forgotten and dreams not yet born.
In the garden of glass, petals rain like stars falling to earth, each drop a universe of its own. A child hides behind the mirror, the reflection grinning, but the eyes are shadows trapped in time.
Words float around us, untethered sentences chasing the wind. Time dances delicately, a waltz with no beginning, no end. The sky is a canvas smeared with ochre memories.
Here, reality blurs at the edges; a tapestry woven with threads of illusion. The truth lies buried beneath layers of silken dreams, waiting to be unearthed. Who dares to seek?
The remnants of yesterday's clarity flicker, fading like stars at dawn.