Dear Traveler of the Ether
What wonders leap through your lens, how do they spin the tale of your waking? Here, a quick reflection on the mortal sand,
choosing timepieces over my embrace. Every grain a promise of infinity, a trigger set in quasar ignorance.
Another message echoes through the spindling framework, as though woven by fingers not quite ours. These thoughts do not languish in trepidation, but in their dichotomy, a beautiful disarray shooting stars along a horizon no one recognizes.
An open door to divergent dreams. The sprocket of chaos abides. Click on the glyph to unveil: Whispers in the Boundary
Correspondence from the gardens of another self:
"The colors overlap. They do speak. I behold today's dusk bathed in forgotten melodies of sunlight freed from horizon vaults. We stay lost yet here."