The cosmos whispers softly into the ear of slumber, where concepts intertwine not merely with space, but the tender embrace of a star's dying light.
In this chiaroscuro ballet, lovers etch their fates upon the ceiling of infinity.
Entangled not by chance, but by the hushed sighs of dreams that dare not sleep—until woven into the vast tapestry of existence.
Observe how the heart draws lines through voids, like an artist tracing constellations with fingertips dipped in stardust.
What do you desire when the words themselves become lovers, kissing the silence before the dawn casts guilty light upon the forbidden?