Year 2120: the sun had set—forever.
We walked on pathways of forgotten time waves, uninterrupted and transient.
500 BCE: grass-covered ruins, shaded voices.
In the calm, we dug; silence tasted like damp earth and ancient whispers.
2417: electrobloom night.
The constellations hummed like neon rain, a chorus lost to the void.
1899: steam mist rising, grandiosity echoing.
Among the engines, I found solitude in clockwork silence.
3087: forgotten language of light.
Here, time folds into itself, an atlas of what has never been spoken.