The table gleamed, an eternal black mirror under a tapestry of stars, each twinkling with secrets known only to the cosmos. At its edge, silence danced, dipping into the unknown like a whisper cascading into the void. Plates of astral cuisine shimmered with invisible ink, flavors stitched into the fabric of night.
The main course, stardust risotto, lay nestled upon lunar gravies, each grain a tale of light captured in fleeting glow. Sides of nebula salad twinkled with constellations intertwining in harmonious riddles, seen only through the eyes of night. Then came the wine, harvested from meteor showers and bottled in void echoes – a sip of eternity itself.
Words unsaid lived between dishes, crafting a shared language newly formed in raven whispers. Across the infinity table, shadows dined invisibly beside the traveler, devouring moments unseen yet felt in every quiet heartbeat resonating through star maps drawn in dreams.
A typewriter sat atop a forgotten planet, its keys pressed by ghostly fingers, sending letters through rings of celestial debris. Every stroke became a voyage beyond reality, inked with the echoes of untold journeys spiraled through cosmos of one's thoughts.