Channel name was changed to Β«And that somehow felt right.Β»
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ππΌππΌππNone had seen any place like this. Not similar to home. Unlike anything else. π¦·π₯©
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ππΌππΌππNone had seen any place like this. Not similar to home. Unlike anything else. π¦·π₯©
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A dream-like world, yet not a dream. #Weary π₯π«of weird shapes, colors not colored, air buzzed, like the static on some ancient #TV set or hum, so very hums of that place just past
Their footsteps rarely
touched, and when their
feet did reach ground,
earth felt soft;
the sensation felt somewhat akin to treading upon clouds, and then again not at all cloudlike.
(π₯¦πΊπ₯Έ)
A dream-like world, yet not a dream. #Weary π₯π«of weird shapes, colors not colored, air buzzed, like the static on some ancient #TV set or hum, so very hums of that place just past
one's understanding-almost-yes-almost-grasped yet never seized. Their footsteps rarely
touched, and when their
feet did reach ground,
earth felt soft;
the sensation felt somewhat akin to treading upon clouds, and then again not at all cloudlike.
(π₯¦πΊπ₯Έ)
Not like clouds but instead the span of time from waking to being awake.
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If that even #made sense.
Pastels thickened the sky,
bleeding into colours in π«
ways that felt wrong but in
a way that was kind of right.
πͺ¬π©Έπ Sometimes it looked like it was going to rain jellybeans. Sometimes, it seemed as if the sun had forgotten to set, only staying halfway between day and night, ππ»
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If that even #made sense.
Pastels thickened the sky,
bleeding into colours in π«
ways that felt wrong but in
a way that was kind of right.
πͺ¬π©Έπ Sometimes it looked like it was going to rain jellybeans. Sometimes, it seemed as if the sun had forgotten to set, only staying halfway between day and night, ππ»
unable to decide which of the two it wanted to be. It was never quite right. Always fluttering.γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €
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And they were off.
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And they were off.
Or, perhaps, not off. They didn't know. And they didn't care #anymore, ππͺ¬π©Έ either.γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €
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(π€ππ«) &βn They didn't need labels, not here, not in Dreamy Core. The concept
Never had they ever felt stuck
within the box of gender here.
(π₯¦π»π) Sometimes soft, other times sharp, sometimes their mind felt tangled in a ball of yarn, unravelled in ways nobody could fix. It didn't matter. They were justβ¦ them.
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(π€ππ«) &βn They didn't need labels, not here, not in Dreamy Core. The concept
"who" and "what" didn't even exist in a way that rang true. Never had they ever felt stuck
within the box of gender here.
(π₯¦π»π) Sometimes soft, other times sharp, sometimes their mind felt tangled in a ball of yarn, unravelled in ways nobody could fix. It didn't matter. They were justβ¦ them.
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A Journey Beyond the Known π₯¦π₯©πͺ¬
But still. (π«π€π₯©)
Something was not quite right.Skyline
Brent Faiyaz
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(πͺ¬β₯οΈπ) It didn't make any sense. Dreamy Core was supposed to be weird, wasn't it? That was sort of the deal.
π₯©π»π€But today, something seemed to twist, some wind having started to blow in the #wrong
And then suddenly, they were pulling. #Tugged. ππ¦·π
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(πͺ¬β₯οΈπ) It didn't make any sense. Dreamy Core was supposed to be weird, wasn't it? That was sort of the deal.
π₯©π»π€But today, something seemed to twist, some wind having started to blow in the #wrong
direction and rattling the edges of their dream in ways they didn't like. And then suddenly, they were pulling. #Tugged. ππ¦·π
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(π«π»π₯©)And they had to
go. No choice was found,
nor granted. Perhaps by
fate, but most likely since
the whole world seemed to
act like it is #glitching outside
of their space, they both
began #walking. π€πͺ¬π¦·
And the routes around them didn't make sense either: roads curving back in upon themselves, streets that weren't streets,
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(π«π»π₯©)And they had to
go. No choice was found,
nor granted. Perhaps by
fate, but most likely since
the whole world seemed to
act like it is #glitching outside
of their space, they both
began #walking. π€πͺ¬π¦·
Everything distorted as they walked. The earth beneath their feet no longer seemed real-either treading on jelly or merely walking through a film of light. π₯¦π©ΈπAnd the routes around them didn't make sense either: roads curving back in upon themselves, streets that weren't streets,
buildings that seemed like dreams themselves, stretching toward the sky like twisted, crooked fingers, pointing nowhere and everywhere at once.γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €γ €