Within the embrace of silence, galaxies whispered forgotten tales. Coiled in loops beyond cosmic fabric, nebulas stitched memories onto the unseen quilt of time.

The astronaut's hat rested upon the table, beside a clock that counted octaves instead of seconds. Or was it minutes? A second offering to the dusk crescent, skyscrapers swayed like dreams displaced by dawn's light.

Barricades made of steel winds, they sang songs through the keyholes of junior trains lost upon desert sands. And what of the railway notebooks, scribbled in hurried Spanish?

And I remembered a garden, where hypothetical dandelions spoke algebra under the patient gaze of a silent owl. This was no mere coincidence; it was an apology carved into parchment of starlight.