The uncharted silk path of your untold stories, standing on it, I could hear magic hum.
Each breath is a whisper watercolor painting ghost trails against an ephemeral twilight canvas. ephemeral scent, echoes tangled in cryptic initials inside covers left ajar. Like a dandelion turned firefly, you wobble over this warm breeze. the final exhale before dawn the theatre of existence_chars_ fibrillating pulses that morph remains into whirls of moonlight