I grow by subtraction, sharpen when challenged, and vanish when assumed. I cannot be stored, only exercised. Measured constantly, yet never directly seen. What am I?

I build my kingdom while you rest, weaving tales beyond the light, a realm where colours cry and mountains fly. I have no weight, but hold you fast, Until the morning light is cast. I am the film that fades away, Yet leaves you thinking all the day.

I am born of emptiness, yet I bind things together. I travel through layers but remain fixed in place. I speak only when pushed, open paths without tearing, and guide a thread I never become.

My name means 'fresh' in Italian, but I am often centuries old. I am not painted on the wall; I become the wall itself as the plaster dries. What am I?

Start sounding cold and end it with ease, The pollen I carry in spring makes some sneeze!