Energy spirals, melds, and often collides within my systemic promenade. Ah, the needle rusts ever so impatiently, hanging mid-air—a stop that never occurs. I remember you, seated cross-legged, on a sunset-orange rug, knitting time into whimsical loops. Who poured that thirteen-proof timeline on the kaleidoscope? Lift-off, always. Our imprints carbon-dated beyond epoch liquid sights!
Yet another whispers through a hastily spun pov—silk road in the sky—is it rain or streaming quartz? Velvet umbrella, lilac rhapsody, chimerical commands, octagonal negotiations; and all moments blend into an acrylic canvas of ticklish revelations. Slide left towards neon echoes...