Have you ever thought about that one time in the universe when nothing really mattered? The way everything just kind of drifts? Like a feather caught in an endless loop of indecision, spinning through the vacuum.
Maybe it’s the coffee breaking the silence of the morning, or perhaps it’s the sound of a thousand dreams unfurling like paper cranes in the void. Time has its way of unraveling threads of sanity, one tick at a time, leaving behind tangled, loose ends.
Just yesterday, I stumbled upon an old photograph of a carnival that never was—its colors bled into obscurity, faces smeared with laughter and sorrow, mingling like paint on a canvas slowly fading into dust.
We all keep singing, though, don’t we? A disjointed melody echoing in the crumbling hallways of existence. Whispers, Memories, and the in-between—the spaces where the shadows dwell.
Sometimes it’s hard to tell which is which, and maybe that’s the beauty in the chaos. Flashes of color jump across the screen like thoughts escaping into the night. Do you feel it? A pulse, a rhythm, an essence amidst the entropy.
If you listen closely, you might find a strange comfort in the breakdown. It’s a symphony of silence—a lullaby for the lost and forgotten. Fractals are everywhere, folding into themselves, shapes of nameless nostalgia.
Existence is not linear; it's more of a spiraling dance, as if the universe is winking at us from the edges of reality. So take a moment, let go, and sway to the ominous beat of becoming.