The abyss speaks—delicately, in murmured tongues—it invites questions, but not answers. Shimmering voids utter tales that seem almost yesterday’s shadow, brushed with stardust and timeless regret. You stand at the precipice, an ear outstretched to an eternity echoing your name in pulses of forgotten light.
In the chrysalis of cosmic canvas, gravitations weave identities anew. There, are voices suspended, like autumn leaves caught in a gentle drift. Engulfed by the serene pull of supernova lullabies, the narrative unfolds, disturbing yet soothing—a covenant made by astral voyagers with no reckoning of silence.
The Sound of Forgotten Turquoise