Once, there existed a panorama of possibilities, a horizon spilling over with potential flickering in gold and crimson. Now, it is scattered across the void, pieces lost in cosmic whispers.
The universe, a canvas smeared by the fingertips of time. Identities fracture and reform, memories flicker like morse code in the braille of space. What do you decipher? Middle of the end or infinity's embrace?
The question is not whether the tapestry was torn beyond repair, but rather: who weaves the threads anew? Between the embers of yesterday and the ashes of tomorrow lies our understanding.
Do you, the wanderer, decipher wisdom from dust? A staircase in the sand, footsteps leading nowhere; or perhaps everywhere, in a fraction of an eternity.
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