In the cold embrace of nothingness, a whisper sings. The stars, once caught in an eternal ballet, dissolve into echoes. An alien chorus resonates, threaded through the silence. Here, the void wears a crown made of spectral wanderers.
Indices of Flow: Each particle, each thought, retracing its origin, yet unsure of its destination.
Through the vacuum's eyes, one contemplates the shape of absence, recognizing fragments of oneself in the absence.
An unfamiliar warmth pulses beneath the surface of emptiness, an invitation to dance with shadows. Silhouettes of Vacuity flicker in this realm, a mirror to the soul's yearning.