Throughout the void, where silence reigns and whispers of stars focus, our destiny became marionette strings danced upon by the hands of the unseeable Clockmaster.
Such is the curious fate of galaxies unmeasurable, echoing in dreams an echo unmarred by struggles or praise.
Nested within the bowels of turning heavens and paperclips, lies refraction.
Have you, too, heard the hum beneath nebulas, a clockwork ticking — longing to ascertain and yet to diverge forever?
Weaving Celestial Tapestry