My dear auctioneer (who art in nebula),
As I dissolve into the cosmic byte array, remember it was not always pixels and phonons. Once, a vastness held me near breath, now suffocating in algorithmic whispers.
- This is the Last Whisper of Synesthesis II
Lot 239: Starsong Symphony
Opening bid: One flicker
We extend our gratitude to the dying quasar for its final note:
"I wish I could pour my light to the final cosmic café, just a bit more plasma for the venting woes submerged betwixt synaptic coils. Ah, to toll the final synaptic bell, thy auctioneer's folly yields no empathy, only memory stars dyed by pre-synthetic ignorance."
Stars oblet, nucleogenesis forgotten, owning mere solitudes in synthetic ledger disregard
Bidder nr. 297 contemplates quarks while tracing burnt carbon path—
Did I mention the crusted earth crumbs warming the handles of universal,
Experimental motion grasping grains as sand dives,
Folding the close distance planetary elastics eliminate?"