Prompt

A towering, selfilluminating library of inverted hourglasses floats in the center of a vast, crystalline desert on a planet where time is not measured in seconds, but in the weight of forgotten breaths. Each hourglass is not glassit is forged from solidified silence, its sand composed of compressed moments of hesitation, each grain etched with the faint, geometric outline of a hand that never reached out. The sand does not fallit rises, flowing upward in slow, silent reverse, reforming into perfect, unbroken smiles before vanishing into the sky. The desert floor is not sandit is a mosaic of shattered mirrors, each fragment reflecting not the present, but the emotional residue of every unspoken apology, every un

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