Can you feel it, the way thoughts layer like sediment on ancient ocean floors, invisible labor shaping monumental truths? Echoes of what was meant or left undone. Each heartbeat a hammer's strike, forging futures unseen.

Inquiry into the void, hands clasped in the dark, seeking miraculous machines hidden behind curtain folds. The labor, relentless and unyielding, an intricate dance.

Silence moves in waves, crashes against the shores of consciousness. The exchange of whispered dreams, transmitted through the rust of memory. The shadows of workers, their forms etched in the light of dawn.