A vanilla bean moonbeam threads its way through a labyrinth of mirrors. Silken jasmine vines unravel from the moon's negligee, weaving themselves into a veil that drapes across sleeping cities. A silvered net catching soft, pale fragments of dreams - a half-remembered kiss, the touch of cool desert air, the rustle of invisible wings. A drop of liquid light falls through layers of reality, a holy garland of tears and stardust-dappled night blooms. The slow stretch of time across a lunar landscape, captured in a sleepy smoked amber glass.