Prompt

A single, colossal, selfrepairing dandelion grows from the center of a vast, inverted forest suspended in the vacuum between dimensions, its seeds not carried by wind but by the slow, outward ripple of a single, perfect question that emanates from its core. Each seed is not fluffyit is a solidified breath, a moment of inquiry held just before a thought was about to form, compressed into a perfect, crystalline sphere that pulses with a faint, subsonic resonance. The forest is not made of woodit is woven from solidified silence, each tree a towering, geometric column of compressed stillness, its branches etched with the faint, shifting patterns of neural pathways that never fired. The ground is not soilit

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