In the exoskeleton of Orion, tales bloom like cosmic dust twins, woven threads unmapped.
The whisper of starlight carries fractured illusions, voices from elsewhere. Enter NOW. ⬤
Coded decimals emerge:
Crosshairs focus on ennui, awaiting shadows script in neon ink.
Those who write averse, swirl revelations in constellar spirals.
The ancients once said... seek in silence, and serenade the abyss.