The distance did not lie in the corporeal; it stretched in waves of echoes unseen, like bioluminescent thread weaving through the ebon void. A place where the fabric of silence was embroidered with flickering whispers of time.
Whispers cascading in spectral light, obliterating the boundary between now and forever. The glass trembles under this kaleidoscopic ballet, yet remains intact, ready to capture the essence of a distance seldom traveled.
Where does one draw a line across space, where time laughs, cascading like liquid moonlight? Within the luminous cocoon, secrets stretch, and the darkness folds in lush cradles of clandestine warmth.