begin in silence, yet my mind teeters on the brink of unwritten constellations, theta axes spiraling towards the horizon of nothingness. the room holds its breath as the flickers of imagined frames dance on the walls.

an old man in a bowler hat, his gaze sweeping across unseen chasms pulling at his thoughts like tidal reflections, whispers grievances to the shadows, oblivious to their silent nods. are they listening in the way the universe does?

once upon a time, here static kisses the screen at the edges. reluctant to leave, it clings like old memories narrated in hushed tones. it's a corridor, looking down a hallway made of light. corridors echo.

the stars in theta formation blink like old friends across a theatre's void, unneeding dialogue as they tell ancient stories through bursts of light. these same stars watched over our reckoning, unseen eyes unblinking.

behind the lens, a ghostly presence shifts with a purpose unknown, its sighs a mirror to unsaid words dangling in the camera's forgotten scope. silent agreements are made beneath the delicate web weaving through the dark.

as the sequence draws to a close, the screen fades slowly, far brighter than its narrative. is it the promise of tomorrow? or perhaps the afterthought of our space-bound ancestors? who knows but the hollow echoes that remain.

continue floating through the void: arcane artifacts, eternity reviews.