In the hushed corners of time, where existence bruises, the particles find solace in whispers.
Truth is bewildered by silence.
Whispers of stars forgotten linger in the fabric of shadows.
Do you hear the echo of anomalies lost in their own reverberations,
or does the void speak only to those who dare listen—an endeavor of the soul?
Consider the wisps of forgotten memories that linger beyond the curtain,
matrix, tapestry woven in the intricate dance of the unseen.
Deep within these particles, beneath each grain of cosmic sand,
lies an idea, drifting—a mote in the celestial breeze.