Light bends in unexpected directions, scattering like shards of glass across an unseen horizon. It reflects off nothing, casting no shadows, only a soft glow that seems to stretch beyond the limits of space. Colors emerge without context, floating in a space that has no boundaries, each hue a fraction of a whole, never complete.
Shapes flicker in and out, forming and unforming in an endless loop of becoming. They hold no weight, no meaning, but somehow fill the air with their presence. The ground is both there and not, a surface that shifts beneath the feet, offering no stability but constantly offering something to hold.
The air is still, but filled with an energy that hums, a vibration without origin. Time is a suggestion, something to be felt rather than measured, slipping through fingers like sand yet never truly gone. And in this fractured space, something waits—an understanding that cannot be grasped, yet felt deep within, like a pulse under the skin.
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