Prompt

A single, translucent hourglass made of solidified moonlight and woven static hangs suspended in the center of a vast, still archive of forgotten languages, its sand not granular but composed of shimmering, iridescent fragments of unspoken thoughts, each one glowing with the faint afterimage of a decision never made. The hourglass does not measure timeit resonates with the emotional frequency of every choice that was left unmade, its glass surface etched with shifting, selfreplicating glyphs that form the names of paths not taken, rendered in the language of dreams that dissolve upon being understood. Around it, the archives shelves are not wood, but solidified breaths from a thousand silent apologies, each one arranged in perfect geometric

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