A feast for thoughts that drift beyond the rim of the bowl.
Golden limbs of her throne hold up a mind hungry for more, each bite a thread stitching new realities behind her eyes. Empty dishes at her feet whisper of past worlds devoured, ideas tasted and left to swirl in the dark.
Dreams drift. Memories flicker. Futures whisper. The snake slithers beside her, shedding yesterday’s skin, next to bowls scraped clean of visions. This is no ordinary meal— it’s a banquet for the restless. For the parts of us that ache for more. Ideas swallowed whole. Realities digested.
Feed the mind. Feed the dream. Feed the endless hunger.
