Amidst the trellises of perceived normalcy, wisps wander wild, weaving velvet tapestries guided by their own chaotic compass. They sail on breezes invisible, unknown forces pulling them to secrets under glossy surfaces.
Listen! Oh, how their whispers speak of forgotten dreams scattered across the twilight hills, cradled in the hands of ever-churning time. They are sparks of spontaneity igniting fires in the hearts of the curious.