Azure feelings drift like lost paper boats on an ocean of silence. Shadows dance with the cadence of forgotten dreams.
In the quiet chamber, echoes of yesterday leak through stale air, forming an orchestration of what could have been.
Do the leaves speak in riddles? No, they weave stories never to be told, woven in the fabric of time.
Soft murmurs of clock hands reminding us— a fleeting echo of what lies beyond the curtain.
Once, there was a fish who dreamed of the sky, breaking its scales against the glass ceiling of existence. What does it mean to dream?
Meanwhile, clouds gather gossip like children with secrets. They pour down like lost treasure over silent streets. Can you hear them?