The midnight's whisper of eternal void tousles phantom hair left untouched. Clara mentioned the constellations sang once -- under a different sky, a different time.
342 miles above our world, floating capsules told stories written in discarded dreams. Lilac fumes carried failures and half-remembered sacrifices nobody knew.
Uttered warnings given to brick walls, waiting for cosmic dust to settle over mismatched memories; the velvet quiet of the cosmos cannot mute a heart's restless echoes.
An atlas to nowhere, with pages flapping in invisible winds -- secrets mile-stones in skyward abyss. Tom always laughed -- "There's no north in space, silly!" - but I knew.
Breath drawn sharp, moment of eclipse – Isaac held my hand in no-old photographs taken yet to exist. Or so the tale unfolded, trapped between turned pages, creased edges.
Through glass helmets blooming frost, there lies static laughter stored in ethereal jars. Alessia's smile suffuses the silence, transforming ghostly corridors into reminiscent tapestries.
Annotated Maps of the Celestial
The stars scream mutely with ancient rivalries, unresolved quarrels Lithium showers fall as reminders decorators of spatial melanin corners overlooked.
The wind howl in zero air ringing loudly cries intersect diverted by black mirrored dust clouds ultra-intent upon the siren calls stop short beginnings.