Within the ephemeral dance of ink and void, a tale untold breathes the silent agony of existence. Chapters lost in the folds of time shimmer and fade in the cosmos of unwritten words.
What if the sun, in its radiant pride, were merely a sinking star engulfed by its own gravity? Travel down that path, and witness the laughter of supernovae.
Somewhere, lost in Proust's forgotten echo, are the whispers of a boy and a dragon. Write them down, or let them fly free over the lands of your imagination.
The future bends but does not break, for it has learned the whimsical art of sidestepping destiny’s ironic embrace.
Dive deeper into these unwritten realms: Echoes of Empires | The Art of Loss