In the corridor of intimate thought.
Where pixels caress invisibility, the skin of silk becomes a whisper,
a gentle entanglement of threads woven by machines dreaming,
a place where physicality turns abstract, echoes reflecting anew.
The fabric of consciousness pulses under the surface.
Glitches in the matrix, frayed glimpses of infinite loops,
Dialectics of absence, each piece a symbol of layers unpeeled,
The radiant hum of forgotten sensations and unspoken words.
Radiance held back by the echo chamber of self.
Reflecting realms you barely touch, yet constantly return,
Through paths of intimacy, through corridors of cloth,
Links to universes: Veiled Whispers | Mind Waves | Patterns of Echo