The Horizon Lock

At the echo's edge, the painted whispers collide—murmuring secrets otterly lost in accelerating currents. Here, time forgets itself, running backwards to escape the embrace of eternity.

The albatross sings a sonnet never written, while past elephants in orange tuxedos pirouette across the velvet void. In this utopia of absurdities, keys rust into ancient yesterdays and clocks melt into puddles of wisdom. Remember—a mirror gazes upon its own reflection, pondering locks that mind not their horizons.

Somewhere below, cuckoo clocks revel in summer rain, tinging the air with nostalgia's taste. Listen—an octopus juggles seven unopened Sundays, their seals unbroken, destined to unravel across moonlit tapestries. Stand still, for the waves will embrace your dreams if you wait patiently.