Prompt

A vast, floating archipelago of inverted, selfrepairing stone pianos drifts through the stratosphere of a planet where music is not heard, but felt as pressure waves in the bones. Each piano is not made of wood or metal, but of solidified moonlightfrozen at the exact moment a single, perfect note was struck in a world that never had ears to listen. The keys are not black and whitethey are polished obsidian and liquid silver, each one etched with the faint, trembling outline of a hand that never played, its fingers suspended midmotion in a gesture of longing. The pianos do not produce soundthey absorb silence, their internal mechanisms humming with the subsonic resonance of unplayed

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