lone dandelion seed
A lone dandelion seed head quivers before the darkening obsidian, barely visible. Sunlight fractures across each filament, illuminating dust and mirroring subtle lines within the stone—a delicate resistance to movement. Touching its cool surface brings not memory, but a sense of poised dispersal, like layers shifting under pressure; unseen forces promise inevitable drift. The numbers continue their cascade, indifferent to observation.