Do not swim in colors seen through cracks of light; transmutations emerge silently.
The rabbit-hole could lead to Thursday evening echoing with the sounds of spinning clocks distantly vying for truth.
Consider, what if transparent people walked planks laid on the day memories forgot?
We continue echoing into empty rooms, where marbles roll endlessly and the rooms are upside-down.
Here lies the slice of parchment on which symbols conspire to unite moments in an unnameable language.
A portal to forgotten lists