Somewhere in the silence, the dust whispers secrets not meant for wandering ears, a symphony of silent voices harmonizing in the gold-tinted twilight. Beyond the door, a world uncrafted by time's artisan awaits. Paths not taken and others never seen lay sprawled in a confetti of moments. The dust knows, it always does, the rhythms of the universe in its particles frozen in bewildered dance—an echo of yesterday's futures.
Listen as the fibers of what's left untold stretch between realms, weaving a tapestry of unvoiced thoughts. Do you hear the synthetic choir, stitched from dreams and reveries? They chant in binary tongues, narrating an unfinished story in forgotten languages. Close your eyes... the world becomes a canvas, the dust paints its masterpiece in the colors of the dawn.
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