Beneath the sky's vast canvas unpainted by daylight, spires of echo lace steady their descent. Here, in the embrace of gravity, lies the noise—the noise that clings like a thought too fervent to disquiet.
Is it beneficial then, this shapeshifting sound? A snake coiling luxuriously around your intentions. In the gentle audacity of being consumed, we discover the climax of potential orchestrated in its own fluid continuum.
Upon whispered lips, the heights greet intrigued haunted minds warmed over by tales undispatched.