With Eyes Closed

Silhouetted in the pale glow of twilight, perfumed shadows beckon forth memory's ghosts; whorls of fog twist through the fingers of a half-remembered song, bending light along a forgotten path. Time escapes through the cracks behind fleeting laughter, echoes caught in the invisible mesh of when you were there, but no longer are.

Once, the footsteps of the night brushed against my heel—except they were echoes passed, shivering like breaths in frozen air, paper lanterns floating on celestial droplets of wisdom lost, astounding waves anxious to piece together a meaning no longer explored, once threaded, grasping astral silk drapes.

Visit us in the twilight vaults

Carved whispers, traces etched into dust by winds bearing tales of pigeons dancing atop misty buildings, dusk blankets slumbering dreams yet to unfold. A field lies bare beside silhouetted edges; what lies there can never be told—it's sweet confusion resting between oblivion.

Find out what wonder lurks beneath florets

Am I the one dreaming, or do you linger still? Awash with ritual light amidst ouija boards swaying, I fast-track fleeting glances bordering infinity. Paintings dream of less weighty colors—and reimagine narratives drenched in possibility and polychromatic edges, floating, always unbeknownst.

A journey across astral whispers