Isn’t it peculiar how shadows stretch like thin fingers against the sunlit walls?
“It was a Thursday, I believe, when the violet sky began to cry,” he said.
Sometimes, you can sense smiles creeping through the cracks of monotony.
Caught in the glimmer of dust motes floating lazily through thoughts.
In the midst of laughter, a question lingers: what is longing but glistening misery?
Consider the stripes of sunlight filtering through half-drawn curtains,
and the way silence can feel like a warm hug or an icy embrace.
Try not to unconventionalize your essential experiences while surveying vibrant tapestries woven with threads so diese,
it's as if the winds of fate unfurl only at dusk. Restore your faith with opaque reflections.
Urge yourself to become lost and discover anew.