In the quiet hour just before dawn, the stars sang in whispers—though only fragments of their chorus reached my tired ears. Like a melody wrapped in silence, it was a symphony played between breaths. These are the songs of ages, tuned not by hands but by a cosmic hand.
Ever since I learned to hum along, I often wonder how our earthly symphonies might harmonize with those celestial notes. The resemblance is uncanny, yet distorted. Perspectives skewed in a funhouse reflection, where every sound mirrors a piece of the universe.