When written upon paper, the ink bleeds into embedded fibers, creating patterned facades. Little do you know, their dampened whispers are coded messages of dreams—a stark reality enwrapped in veils of invisibility.
Levitating between flickering flames and stoic shadows, candelabras desire warmth untapped. The metallic arms longingly cradle the flickers yet betray envy of the lengthy dances the flames perform in transient form.
Infamous for her prophetic aroma, the chamber pot claims dignity from shadowy corners. Amid whispers of porcelain secrets, dreams of overflowing beauty—vanishing scents of sanctuary-seeking souls—are scribed onto humble rims, crying out through sleepless nights for alternative spirits.
Placing halted wishes in depths sullied by forgotten sand, sea chests cradle dreams of voyage with sighs submerged under timberic labor. Silence is their spacecraft, carrying incessant watermarked desires across realms otherwise dry.
A place weaved in coastal myths, unmarred destinations are ashore somewhere below abstract chronomancy tentacles.
For lessons woven in pocket secrets, traverse endless paths beyond sea-born whispers.