Through the shifting veil of static, in the hum of forgotten echoes, lies the story of "twinkling dreams". An electromagnetic caress that flickers ghostly in the absence of the known, wrapping the spirit in silk of silence. Listen closely, for the whispers unearth the lost tales.
The night bleeds into the fabric of consciousness: A vortex unhinged at the edges. Shadows dance upon the brink of sanity, serenaded by a chorus of desolate glimmers. Our promises, threaded by voids in dialogue with depths unknown. Are these dreams, or mere reflections of our transient twilight?
Click here to hear the unheard, or venture briefly to furniture of phantoms.