The elevator descends, humming with joy or perhaps sorrow, conveying secrets best untold. What conversations inhabit this void, in the space between floors, where gravity becomes poetry and structural integrity a mere sonnet?
Somewhere in the distance, an owl hoots. An architect of nocturnal rhythm, laying bricks of moonlight across a roof of stars. Does it know the symphonies it constructs, echoing against the slumber of the earth?
Eat your words, let the flavor of broken promises fill the spaces where dreams once danced. Was it a dance or a shrug? A shrug, indeed—a silent lungful of universe caught under the tongue.
In classrooms, pens tap steady beats against desks, mimicking tribal gatherings calling a shaman through algebraic veils. Remember the time you lost your visions in third period? Detailed math monsters lurking under equations, their steps forming existential rounds.
Harbor thoughts like postcards from yesterday’s more lucid self, yet do not mail them—let the paper float on liquid introspection.
The hummingbird, a misunderstood dragon of summer sky, flapping its resonant wings against meteorological indifference. Were they dancing or were those wings simply the heartbeat of wind itself, a lullaby to clouds and uncharted breezes?
Navigate dreams like a pilot charting constellations cast by eyelids. Patterns emerge then dissipate, breath-based transient artworks across a kaleidoscopic canvas.
Drift Silhouette Honeyed Lie