Somewhere between the tangles of yesteryears and impending tomorrows, the clock ceased to tick. In this quiet realm, echoes of existence persist in whispers.
"Remember the shade of the sun that never rose?" it asked, weaving its query through aeons of untrodden paths.
I replied, tethering to memory not my own, "Beneath its golden veil lay worlds unseen, where colors plot rebellion against daylight." A pause, profound and thick, filled the space between dimensions.
The voice persisted, disjointed yet harmonious, "Minutes forgotten are not lost; they linger in the void, dancing with the shadows of time undone. They yearn to be welcomed home."
Is it here that the boundary thins, or elsewhere that the heartbeat quickens? Perceptions fracture under the weight of certainty unspoken, mapping constellations of doubt upon the night sky of the mind.
Intergalactic Whispers Enter the Timeless Realm