In the space below the splintered floorboards there stretches a clear, oozing film, through which glittering statues glow. You hear birdsong.

In the crackling, humid air below an overpass there stretches a miasma of darkness, beyond which icy statues waver. You smell lemons.

In the hollow of an old tree there floats a blue, pulsing film, through which smoke and moonlight glow. You hear heavy rain.

In the opening between two tree branches there shimmers a pane of emerald stardust, past which rain and wildflowers glow. You smell antiseptic.

In the hollow of an old tree there shimmers a veil of spreading black ink, through which glimpses of still figures flicker. You hear the breathing of a large animal.

In the window of an empty barn there stretches a veil of spreading black ink, through which rain and moonlight beckon. You smell cedarwood.

In the gap where bricks are missing from a wall there swirls a curtain of ephemeral flame, past which organic structures beckon. You smell gasoline.

Across a doorway within an old pawn shop there swirls a writhing mat of clear cilia, beyond which abyssal motes of light glow. You smell rain.

In the window of a dark library there floats a turquoise, pulsing film, through which creaking machines flicker. You smell gasoline.

In the blossom-scented, dusty air in the middle of the street there hangs a purple, slimy film, through which maze-like structures cast shadows. You smell wet earth.

In the gap where bricks are missing from a wall there hums a large mirror shard, within which abyssal motes of light flicker. You hear distant drumming.

In the window of an old 7-11 there ripples a turquoise, oozing film, through which rain and morning light beckon. You hear a horse whickering.

In the dark space behind a bookshelf there hums a pink, slimy film, through which gelatinous structures waver. You smell gasoline.

In the heavy, dusty air in the middle of the street there swirls a purple, pulsing film, through which ghostly hands flicker. You hear a dying music box.

In the opening between two tree branches there floats an orange, slimy film, through which tesselated structures cast shadows. You smell antiseptic.

In the still, heavy air on the far horizon there hangs an orange, slimy film, through which fog and starlight flicker. You hear heavy rain.

In the doorway to a dark barn there hangs a sliding fractal of light, through which flowering cliffs glow. You smell rust.

In the heavy, humid air below an overpass there hangs a large mirror shard, within which paper structures beckon. You smell mint.

In the gap where bricks are missing from a wall there ripples a clear, slimy film, through which glimpses of still figures waver. The hairs on the back of your neck are standing up.

In the narrow mouth of a dark cave there hums a turquoise, oozing film, through which triangular structures beckon. You smell rust.

In the space below the splintered floorboards there swirls a purple, pulsing film, through which glimpses of still figures glow. You hear TV static.

In the opening between two tree branches there hangs a purple, oozing film, through which abyssal motes of light cast shadows. You hear the faint rhythm of waves.

In the dark space behind a bookshelf there floats the skin of a bubble, through which dripping monoliths cast shadows. You smell rain.

In the heavy, muggy air above a sand dune there hangs a pane of spun sugar, through which dripping stone walls beckon. The ground sways gently beneath you.

In the doorway to an old treehouse there floats a veil of spreading black ink, through which flowering statues cast shadows. You hear the breathing of a large animal.

In the dusty, crackling air beneath a solitary tree there hums a large mirror shard, within which creatures with silver scales flicker. You hear distant drumming.

In the doorway to a rat-infested library there stretches a miasma of darkness, beyond which dripping stone walls flicker. You hear heavy rain.

In the still, heavy air above a sand dune there ripples a writhing mat of clear cilia, beyond which tesselated structures waver. You hear TV static.

In the blossom-scented, muggy air lit by a street lamp there floats a blue, slimy film, through which fog and wildflowers beckon. You hear the breathing of a large animal.

In the window of a spotless, empty barn there ripples a veil of faceted stardust, past which dripping stone walls glow. The ground sways gently beneath you.

In the crackling, cold air below an overpass there floats a clear, pulsing film, through which trapezoidal structures glow. You smell rust.

In the still, blossom-scented air above a sand dune there ripples a dense web of sparks, through which glimpses of dancers flicker. You smell ozone.

In the gap where bricks are missing from a wall there stretches a sheet of golden flame, past which creatures with silver scales glow. You hear heavy rain.

In the opening between two tree branches there hums a dense web of sparks, through which glimpses of fireflies cast shadows. You smell rust.

In the hollow of an old tree there ripples a dense web of sparks, through which organic structures beckon. You smell something vile.

In the doorway to an empty barn there shimmers a clear, pulsing film, through which fog and vines glow. You hear strange crickets.

In the narrow mouth of a dark cave there floats the skin of a bubble, through which abyssal motes of light beckon. You smell lemons.

In the hollow of an old tree there floats a veil of sapphire water, past which pixelated cocoons glow. You smell ozone.

In the narrow mouth of a dark cave there hangs a veil of spreading black ink, through which paper structures flicker. You hear a dying music box.

In the dusty, crackling air behind an abandoned barn there floats a dense web of sparks, through which glimpses of wings cast shadows. You hear the breathing of a large animal.

In the opening between two tree branches there ripples a curtain of sapphire flame, past which unfamiliar constellations waver. You hear the sound of an ice cream truck from very far away.

In the window of a spotless, empty pawn shop there floats a veil of spreading black ink, through which creaking machines cast shadows. You hear eerie laughter.

In the doorway to an old barn there stretches a green, pulsing film, through which pixelated stone walls waver. You smell pine needles.

In the humid, crackling air above a ring of mushrooms there ripples an orange, pulsing film, through which iridescent stone walls beckon. You hear a faint beeping.

In the space below the splintered floorboards there stretches a veil of diaphanous water, past which snow and moonlight flicker. You smell pine needles.

In the thin, muggy air above a sand dune there hums an orange, pulsing film, through which dripping monoliths flicker. You smell something burning.

In the opening between two tree branches there shimmers a veil of sapphire flame, past which triangular structures cast shadows. You smell winter.

In the hollow of an old tree there ripples a clear, slimy film, through which creaking machines beckon. You hear birdsong.

In the doorway to a hidden barn there hums a pane of spun sugar, through which rain and morning light beckon. You hear the distant sound of thunder.

In the heavy, still air in the middle of the street there swirls a curtain of frozen flame, past which glimpses of fireflies glow. You smell winter.