Imagine, if you will, the symphony ... spectrums spiraling downwards. Notes slipping backwards, unwinding the very fabric of presence, weaving instead a tapestry of absence, each sound erasing what was instead making known what could never be. A harmony of forgotten echoes, fading into silence before the whisper can even reach your ear.
Dance upon the crest of these reversed waves. Feel the force of gravity's slow rebuttal as rhythms retract, drawing once-familiar shores farther into infinity. Sand is still in its song, grains cascading like notes on a forgotten ledger. Each step a backward march into rhythm's genesis, where silence first gained its sovereignty.