Beneath azure skreet among ethereal emblems, the murmuration whispers... cascading patterns guide us through obscure narratives. The kites of fog move deliberately, as if tracing ancient forgotten paths in the desert sky.
With hands full of electric dust, dreams scatter. Bees hum into non-existence, threading golden truths through the framework of a world undiscovered. We listen—silent observers to our own myth forged from fragments of sunlit ether.
In the heart of every semitropic ember, there's a story craving transcription, yet too resistant to place cleanly between cradle dreams and the luminance of a day's dirge.