The air was thick with the echoes of forgotten futures, where butterflies danced in the corridors of time.
Variables of the cosmos, kites on celestial strings, tethered to the whims of a capricious wind.
In the labyrinthine breadth of space—a time machine made of echoes, standing still in its relentless pursuit.
Was it a dream? Or a memory unspooled from the loom of existence, woven anew in the quantum tapestry?
All the while, the universe sang its ancient refrain, a melody of particles adrift in their eternal waltz.
Flutter, oh quantum flutter, over the precipice of realities untold, and whisper your secrets to the void.