The quiet lingers like a soft breath.

Memory whispers.

An old book, left unopened.

Dust dances in sunlight, marking time's passage.

In the shadows, words—faded and worn.

In every corner, a story sleeps.

Theory #573: A remnant of thought.

Philosophy rests in the margins.

Once vibrant, now silent.

The echo of laughter, long forgotten.

Reach for the stars, or the ground beneath.

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