Prompt

A single, floating ziggurat of woven, selfrepairing thunderclouds rises from the center of a vast, still ocean of liquid static, its stepped tiers not made of stone but of solidified radio waves from a thousand untransmitted messages. The structure does not standit breathes, expanding and contracting in time with the pulse of a distant, unheard symphony, each tier glowing with a faint, selfsustaining aurora that writes equations in the air using light as ink. At the summit, a hollow, geometric crown made of compressed silence sits open, not to reveal a throne, but to emit a slow, rotating nebula of soundless laughter that condenses into visible, bioluminescent constellations shaped

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