On a silent horizon, where phantom footsteps tread upon soft dreams, one must question the void's sarcasm. Imagine the horizon, an endless parade of yawns, mocking the eager gaze of explorers and daydreamers alike.
Satirical winds blow here, carrying whispers from horizons that laugh silently into the void—the silence has never been so loud. An irony, paradoxically rich, lays untouched, as delicate as a fog of ghostly sentiments.
Fragmented memories drift in, only to disperse like runaway thoughts in a rain of solar flares. A reminder: this is no place for the timid mind or those seeking the mundane. Only the brave embrace phantoms of frigid mirth that pause, then pirouette into nothingness.