Prompt

A single, selfreflecting filament of compressed silence pulses through the core of a floating, inverted library of unspoken questions suspended in the quantum foam between two collapsing fields of forgotten curiosity. The filament does not emit lightit unasks, each pulse unraveling a query into its original potential, releasing a wave of zeroentropy inquiry that fractures the fabric of doubt into a drifting mist of translucent, geometric resonances, each one etched with the chromatic afterimage of a mind that never dared to wonder. The librarys shelves are not made of woodthey are woven from the thermal residue of unformulated hypotheses whispered into the void between breaths, each one a hollowedout echo of a hand that never reached for the truth. The

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