Here within these depths, layers unravel like ribbons intertwining, woven through the fabric of nothingness.
In a forgotten spectrum, constellations blink as whispers colliding with the silence; each moment channels echo and drift.
The binding of realities bends.—Is it architecture built from thought or dream shaped from matter?
Beneath arcs unseen, intersections pulse; all unravel as frames, moments—shattered yet whole—layer upon layer.