In the twilight of thought, theories twine like shadows over a sunken moon, laying tales of ribbons across the firmament—not stars, but possibilities. Each flicker, not a celestial body, but a veiled secret of existence unnoticed.
A world parallel to ours where time is a gentle stream, unbroken by rocks of intention. Reflection in water, illusion, yet truth captures in droplets, hanging off edges of reason.
Among fractals of expansive seams, consciousness sifts through threads unspoken, the silence that echoes, a hurried gust in between words left unheeded.