Each thread speaks in whispers; the echo of a without-shape, woven by the hands of the unseen. They weave tales about the beneficial poisonous noise that reverberates through steel arches under a bleeding sun, its rays spilling secrets through cracks.
Chirp… chirp… Perhaps it is the lone cricket, heralding dusk with its harmonic disarray. The vibrations reverberate; the invisible cords of thought connect the discarded to the forgotten.
A woman, draped in memories, gazes through the glass of her own reflection—colorless yet vibrant. Eyes that have sampled ambiguity, lips that pronounce exiles. A home definitively lost amid the chatter of forgotten beings—a swarm of possibilities that malfunctioned and drizzled like paint over concrete.
Echoes linger tangentially like pale moths attracted to the flickering flame—a brand of luminescent promise coating the fragile shores of longing. She bends reality where threads intersect into fibers of intentions. Closer, closer... a step into chaos where knowledge marries silence in a cryptic dance. Extensions of a puzzle that forms in mystery’s visage. Each fragment, like an unpolished gem, sheds notions of meaning into a universe cradled softly.
To where does it lead? One must entwine in the layer of integers glistening beneath night’s veil, losing their way in the rush of connectivity. Human and alien intertwine like vines climbing the walls of empty crumbling spaces; gliding within realms beyond touch but close enough to tingle the skin.
Between paths not chosen, where whispers join the eternal chorus, a calling erupts—the urgency masked by the melody of a bittersweet resolution. Step forth calm and unafraid, for the symphony of life chimes within a string that tangles but never breaks.