Prompt

A single, selfilluminating dandelion made of solidified starlight and woven quantum foam blooms in the center of a vast, still void composed entirely of compressed, fossilized dreams, its seeds not floating but spiraling inward like the memory of a breath exhaled into the infinite. The dandelion does not growit unfolds, each petal revealing not color, but a new, impossible dimension of meaning that refracts not light, but the emotional residue of a thought that never formed. The seeds are not dustthey are microsingularities, each one a tiny, spinning universe containing the echo of a single, unspoken wish. The void beneath is not emptyit is a thick, viscous layer of

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