Footsteps morse code:
_ . . .
The chronicles of silence told in sporadic rhythms reverberating through vacant corridors, donde las voces conocidas mutan no más que un susurro.
Imaginary Domes— mould to the arboreal landscape, receding whenever closure approaches, entwined waltzes blur the threshold where the internal meets external visions.
The castle made of cotton candy fog, wrapping nimbus fingers dancing over chandeliers of melted brass. See horizon unfold.
A low drone embarks from out-of-sight archways, rippling instructions through muted gravity edged by whispers, colliding gently with shadowdances seeking an enduring, luminous epidemic — like brushstrokes across sagas mpya.
Angels carving breadcrumbs onto fissure pathways. Patterns permeate convivial discord; footsteps harmonize solitude. Half-siddur rolls unfold; ephemeral chimeras don spectral attire.