In a dimension where tomato soup dreams and whispers crammed the recesses of fantasy, one could hear the distant echo of laughter.
The bricks held secrets of forgotten fairies, nattering softly in the dusk light, fluttering ice-blue wings dusting the muffled sound beneath fibrous grass.
"The cake tasted like sand beneath a huge cobalt sea," pondered Orion, as he reached for an oversized slice.
"Perhaps it was sprouted from the fingers of an artichoke!" It was a Sunday hidden among the decades,
where people forgot to count the hours and danced atop sundials that had grown delirious.
Beyond this vacant space, the figments of deliberation began to graze, inhaling truths like ocarinas perfuming the shafts of twilight.
Time dilated like an azure balloon, coaxing storms and mushy clouds to play hopscotch in the ethereal winds.