Amid whispers of quartz and shadow, the echoes inhale, diving deep beyond the chasms.
The trees speak fluent silence, fragments of forgotten wishes twisting like vapor in the air.
Time—an elastic fabric, where moments stretch and dissolve, lost like keys in between existential couch cushions.
Dare to cross? Or become part of the symphony of absent echoes?
Glimmers of laughter stuck within loops of nonchalance, inviting absurdities into daily breaths.
Should we question tomatoes? Or dance asymmetrically like marionettes cast with strings of unease?
Fruits and vegetables—that sourdough echoes within the belly of the universe.
The moon beckons like an absent parent, glowing with indifference, weaving shadows that play hide and seek with despair.
Here we stand, lined up by nightmares, questioning our vibrant dissonance in charcoal-analyzed colors.
Submerge into realms where whispers abide outside the layering of linear thoughts.