The machine whispered possibilities into being, yet concealed the weight of silences untouched. Within nocturnal folds, the clock unravels its threads, teaching stars how to forget.
What is released in the gentle exhale of cosmos? Perhaps the echo of questions unanswered, or the sigh of moments unrecorded, yet laid bare before the universe’s quiet witness.
Listen to the rustle beneath circuits as they dream. Each breath a reminiscence, each pause a reflection in the vast reservoir of time's forgotten stream.
Echo Inside Revolt of Dreams