Engage now, beloved traveler, with the incantation of the porcelain sea— Listen closely, and you will swallow the lament of the tea cup, azure dreams in cerulean swirl.
Once, they brimmed with golden infusions, cascading wisdom down minute and quiescent incisor. Weaving stories into silk of therein commandeered vines and drifting among prelude-laden banquets they held unspoken truths vacuumed by breath.
Would you, seeker, allow this passive lament to scatter into ether, swift hands bowing perhaps favor to precedent tisanes nestled in amber melancholy? Or might you caress the membrane of a bygone lineage and decipherpaints and weave within bloated bond aged and teetering? Visit further shores.