Prompt

A vast, sentient nebula of solidified breath drifts through the vacuum of a forgotten galaxy, its form not fixed but perpetually reshaping itself into the negative space of every unspoken word ever whispered in the dark between stars. Each filament of the nebula is a frozen sighcrystalline, translucent, and humming with a subsonic frequency that resonates with the emotional weight of silence. The nebula does not expand it unexpands, retracting its edges like a memory dissolving in reverse, revealing not emptiness, but the ghostly outlines of constellations that never existed, their names etched in the faint, iridescent glow of unformed language. At its core, a single,

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