Prompt

A single, humming filament of solidified wind weaves through the center of a vast, still forest of inverted, glassblown trees suspended in a vacuum chamber lined with iridescent, sounddissolving velvet. The filament does not conduct airit conducts absence, each twist pulsing with the faint, thermal afterimage of a sigh whispered into a void that was never filled. The trees are not rootedthey are frozen midrotation, their branches made of spun moonlight and compressed silence, each leaf etched with the geometric script of a dream that collapsed before it could be named. The floor is not groundit is a thin, vibrating membrane of stretched time, resonating at the exact frequency of a heartbeat that was never heard, its

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