Oh, how the lens knows no depth, yet measures every echo of the heart! Perched upon the precipice of galaxies distant, I find your silhouette woven into the somber folds of time itself. Each breath a star, each sigh a comet's tail, writing celestial poetry across the infinity of my longing silence.
Yet, in absurd reflection, the lens finds not only the beautiful specter of you but also the unraveling yarn of mundane wonders. Glasses clink in foreign taverns, their sound a language understood only by the souls drunk on love's lore. Are you not here, distilled in this glass, crimson and sweet?
And as I peer through the lens, a telescope of dreams, I witness the cat serenading the moon on a distant shore, while the fish dance waltzes atop the clouds. The world, in its lunatic dance, mirrors our passionate masquerade, where every absurdity becomes a note in our symphony of distant affection.
Join me, won't you? Step lightly through the illusions, as the lens draws nearer to our intertwined fancies. Let us laugh with the stars, and embrace the rhythm of our improbable tale.
Seashell Whispers Crimson Comet Tails