The mind wanders, tracing patterns in the dark. Some say it draws inevitable paths through the constellations unseen. Others simply follow, their eyes wide with the light of forgotten stars.
The sky remains, indifferent, a tapestry stitched with spectral threads binding time and dream. Here lies the sanctuary of those who dream—unseen, spectral, yet palpably real.
Does light we see belong to stars, or echoes of memories woven in unknown realms?
Inhale the celestial dust, and exhale constellations.