𝓗𝓮𝓻𝓮 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓰𝓪𝓻𝓭𝓮𝓷 𝔀𝓪𝓵𝓵𝓼 𝓻𝓲𝓼𝓮 𝓽𝓸 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓱𝓲𝓹
𝓑𝓮𝔂𝓸𝓷𝓭 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓶 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓼𝓴𝔂 𝓲𝓼 𝓮𝓷𝓭𝓵𝓮𝓼𝓼
𝓐 𝓱𝓪𝔃𝓮 𝓲𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓼𝓽𝓲𝓵𝓵𝓷𝓮𝓼𝓼 𝓯𝓸𝓰𝓼 𝓶𝔂 𝓼𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽
𝓐 𝓶𝓲𝓼𝓽 𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓬𝓪𝓾𝓰𝓱𝓽 𝓼𝓸𝓶𝓮 𝓫𝓮𝓷𝓮𝓿𝓸𝓵𝓮𝓷𝓽 𝓵𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽
𝓑𝓵𝓸𝓸𝓭 𝓻𝓮𝓭 𝓻𝓸𝓼𝓮𝓼, 𝓯𝓾𝓵𝓵 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓻𝓲𝓹𝓮
𝓢𝓮𝓮𝓶 𝓽𝓸 𝔀𝓪𝓵𝓽𝔃 𝓪𝓵𝓸𝓷𝓰 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓽𝓻𝓮𝓮𝓵𝓲𝓷𝓮
𝓐 𝓹𝓵𝓪𝓬𝓮, 𝓯𝓸𝓻 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓘
𝓘𝓷 𝓽𝓲𝓶𝓮
𝓣𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝔀𝓮 𝔀𝓲𝓵𝓵 𝓷𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓻 𝓯𝓲𝓷𝓭
The History:
A dream I had that reminds me of a Thomas Kinkade painting;
You were within my sight. A nocturne energy hung, as if we had met early on a brisk dewed morning. There was nothing beyond the walls but blue skies and cumulus clouds. Pocket realities.