In a realm stitched from midnight oceans and silver dawns, where celestial whispers weave tales in constellations obscure, the essence drifts, buoyed by echoes of a time both ancient and new.
Sunlight and shadow dance upon the surface of forgotten galaxies, their light spun from threads of melancholic dreams and joyous whispers. Beneath the endless azure of twilight—the stars—the soul wanders free.
An inscription on a cosmic tile, forgotten by those who ceased to speak:
“Shall the fish swim in these currents of light, or shall the stars
weave through the labyrinth of seaweed?” sighed the dauntless navigator.