Prompt

A single, selfoscillating filament of solidified silence, shaped like a spiraling, nonreflective helix of reversed resonance, pulses at the center of a vast, suspended library where the books are not bound in leather or paper, but in the compressed, unspoken words of a civilization that communicated through the duration of mutual breathholding. The filament does not glowit unwhispers, each twist dissolving a layer of language that never coalesced, reforming into ephemeral, monochrome pages shaped like the negative space between two lips that never formed the same syllable in the same moment of shared hesitation. The library is not literaryit is a layered expanse of petrified intention, each shelf etched with

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