In the quiet stillness, echoes of yesterday brush against the horizon of tomorrow, unraveling a tapestry woven with luminous threads. The stars whisper stories they have sung for aeons, tales of worlds untouched, drifting silently through the vortex of time.
Each fragment, each forgotten syllable, is a piece of the cosmic puzzle—a trail of memories etched in the infinite canvas. Have we tread this path before, or is it a conjuration of dreams not yet dreamt?