Floating through fallen fragments of what was once the ordinary, where paths are paved with possibilities and chatter echoes silently. Orbitals whisper tales.
Thoughts are like bubbles, drifting serenely but momentarily suspended, merging, splitting, evaporating into the void. I recall an old sky... it seemed vast even then, didn’t it?
Once, while charting constellations from my back porch, I wondered. It's absurd, the way we look up... searching for meaning in dots arranged by chance. Anomalies.
Remember the loneliness of those nights, piercing questions asked to a silent universe? Mainstream treks forget the solitude.
Yet here we float, our own little bubbles within a grand cosmic dance. Perhaps there's comfort in that—knowing everyone else seeks the same elusive truths.