In the gentle pulse of wandering frequencies, where time flows as a languid stream ...
Dissonances cradle the decay, echoes of a forgotten symphony. The galaxies hum softly.
The stardust whispers secrets penned by no hand, narrating tales of galaxies woven into the fabric of infinity. Through entropic dances, dreams thicken the atmospheres of faraway realms.
Decay is the birthright of all things, a sacred gift so often unloved yet delicate in its embrace. Remember the light that sputtered on at twilight, that told stories in frequencies untuned by human ears?