teal
As you glance toward a memories' hour, you hear some weezery whispers coming from the sun and stars. They seem to be the gift of a charlatan with the audience in a surplus of nothingness, well wrapped in the ingenuity of a teal hue that breathes and shines between the teeth of the moon. Took just a jiff to catch you in joy's attire as you glanced toward a memories' hour.
