It's a whisper, a gentle hum in a room painted neon sky. Sometimes it calls to the sea nomad, echoing through dolphin dreams. Did you hear it last Tuesday?

Possibly, or maybe just a clever trick of the clock-maker. A top spinning forever, glanced upon by a watchful owl. What do your thoughts spiral into when they're not swimming with goldfish?

Inhale deeply—those fleeting glimpses of what-ifs and could-have-beens. They float like pollen on a warm spring breeze, settling softly on the eyelids of a dreaming continent. Ever caught a whiff while walking your shadow at dusk?