metallic tang blossomed

A metallic tang blossomed at the back of the tongue, unexpectedly warm against the crumbling texture of wall. Within the plaster’s dust, casts pulsed with faint light—layered impressions like rock formations worn by unseen currents. Each new trace seemed less distinct than those before, yet together they possessed a heavier presence. Time drifted through this residue of feeling, eroding any clear sense of choosing or remembering; instead, one simply *was*, suspended in perpetual becoming.