Prompt

A single, selfsiphoning vortex of liquid time rotates in the center of a vast, still desert composed entirely of solidified, unspoken apologies written in the dust of forgotten languages. The vortex does not spinit unremembers, each rotation peeling back a layer of history that never occurred, revealing a hollow core shaped like the negative space between two hands that never met in the same breath. The desert is not sandit is a layered expanse of petrified silence from a thousand unacknowledged regrets, each dune etched with the emotional residue of a word that was almost whispered, its surface shimmering with the faint, thermodynamic afterimage of a voice that never found its echo. The wind carries no sound

Ai Model

FT Ai

Share

HTML Code