Twilight bends upon the edges of a time-worn case. Sowing seeds of light among seams and dust. A memory breathes within the folds of fabric. The horizon shrinks to nothing in the handle. Inside, the seeds become miniature trees. The roots seek the shadow cast by labels. Every branch whispers names of journeys never taken. The suitcase rests there, a forest awaiting. The zippers turn into hedges that guard time. The cloth retains the scent of leaves and wind. When the case opens, a landless forest is born. And twilight stays to keep the breath of the trees.