A whispered breeze weaves through towering spires of glass, refracting the tremors of time, crafting kaleidoscopes of bygone tomorrows. Each fragment sings a note, a somber melody played backward, unraveling histories we almost lived, paths not taken. City lights flicker like distant stars, forming constellations only visible in slumber.
Here lie stories of the invisible transit, where copper wires once hummed with existence electric, iridescent rains fell in bursts of randomness, painting nanoscopic lights on every stone street. Fragments of once-foreseen sequences disrupt their reverie, drifting amid the echo-chorus of forgotten light-lands.
Hearken to the rhythms of a past not lived, where twist of fate’s fingers induced symphonies of machine hearts—thrumming pulses beneath the flesh of reality, shaping skins tight with future's visions.