Spilling echoes, ghosts of unsaid words linger... Where did the echoes travel? ✨ Dunes of memory buried in shifting sands of timelines lost, or did a comet pass? What is anunfinished thought, a sealed fate? Throw it into the wind and… spiral beneath the surface, as clocks dissolve into pools of swirling ink.
The glassy-eyed visions illustrate the chase of shadows at dusk; what remains, dangling weightless... fragility, a conundrum of time. And when whispers become rust, how to breathe when air is made of strangeness?
Link disappears... The sound of silence? Maybe. Every ember carries whispers, sparks that ignite thoughts lost. Do you hear it in the distance? A low hum; resonant, repetitious, runaway. 🌊
Between now and the distant unwanted potential, late fragmentation across pages: HERE LIES A DREAM that was never explored, a toxic flower in the garden of chaos.