Prompt

A single, selfsiphoning vortex of liquid time rotates at the center of a floating, inverted greenhouse suspended in the upper atmosphere of a gas giant, its structure not glass or steel but grown from the solidified breath of a thousand unspoken gardeners who never planted a seed. The vortex does not spinit unfolds, each rotation releasing a wave of reverse entropy that dissolves the fabric of growth into a mist of crystalline pollen, each grain etched with the chromatic echo of a petal that never bloomed. The greenhouses walls are not transparentthey are layers of petrified sunlight, each pane a fossilized moment of dawn that never reached the soil. Inside, the plants are not rootedthey float in slow

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