Nothing here is trying to get you. There is no score, no timer, and no way to lose. Open one and stay as long as you like.
a thousand particles obey you
a liquid you can touch
hang stars in the night. the sky writes their story.
a thousand starlings. your finger is the wind.
a hillside of bells. brush them and they sing.
pattern comes out of nothing, under your hand.
slowly, as these things do