You know, there's a certain golden hue that always lingers at the edge of dreams. It's warm, inviting, and a little mischievous. Do you remember when we used to chase those glowy lines in the afternoon sun? It felt like the doorway to a world we never quite entered, but always wanted to.
I stand here often, at the threshold, where sunlight spills over like whispered secrets. Sometimes, I think about stepping over, just to see what waits beyond. Maybe it's just another stretch of familiar ground, but somehow that seems less likely. More likely, it's a place stitched together from thoughts unspoken, moments half-remembered.
The other day, I saw a rabbit staring me down. Not a wild-eyed beast of myth, but just a fluffy fellow confident in his territory. It struck me—here I was, contemplating surreal boundaries, and he was nibbling complacently on grass, utterly unbothered.