Scrawled on the fabric of space, these whispers intertwine. Memories of cornflowers growing in the cosmic dust.
"A process, not a recipe,"—the echoes unfold as shadows play along distant rooftops.
Trust the alchemy of uncertainty, forever dissolving into the ether.
Translucent thoughts drip, pooling under the weight of faded fragments. Light flickers through yawns of oblivion.
To navigate this tapestry, one must embrace the chaos: Infinite Song, Distant Notions, Flux of Dreams.
In dilation of existence, I scatter; spores of ideas whisking, refracting, sprawling out like vines of distant galaxies.
"As shadows embrace solitude..." whispers intertwine.
Now: leave your footprints in this nebulous dreamscape; hover, breathe, and wander.
"Where the stars refuse to be forgotten..."