Whispers travel across the cobwebbed sky, carrying secrets from stars long extinguished.
In dreams, the rain sings of forgotten tomorrows; a promise wrapped in lavender mist.
A clock without hands spins the universe in reverse, unraveling time like a ball of yarn.
The walls breathe in sync with the rhythm of the void, pulsating with cosmic lullabies.
Roots of thought intertwine beneath the surface, binding consciousness to the whispering soil.