In the gleam of an unmade bed, where visions sleep but never wake, a truth whispered...
fragments left behind like ghostly footprints in sand.

A distant bell chimes thrice, marking time in a universe without clocks. In this absence,
possibilities twist in unending spiral mirrors.

Amidst alley reflections, laughter dances in ink-ocean playsets
Imaginary places, tethered by invisible threads, flaunt their mischief.

The corridor stretches, are you following?