In the heart of the clock, where time spills backward, a skipping stone breathes.
What if whispers could paint the walls with colors unseen, fluttering like fluttering wings?
Unfinished sentences chase themselves in a room that smells like falling petals.
Ask yourself, what lies under the couch? It's not just dust, it's echoes!
Piece together the wild laughter echoing down the alley of long-forgotten dreams.
Can a thought exist without its tether? No binds, just freefalling through possibility!
Hint: the universe is {an invisible}/ puzzle waiting to be assembled under your fingertips.