Prompt

A single, selfsustaining dandelion of solidified static blooms at the center of a vast, still amphitheater carved from the hollowedout core of a dormant black hole, its seeds not fluffy but crystalline shards of compressed radio silence, each one etched with the faint, ghostly script of a message never sent. The dandelion does not grow upwardit expands outward in perfect geometric symmetry, its stem not plant matter but a single, coiled filament of solidified time, humming with the frequency of a decision deferred. The amphitheaters seats are not stone, but layers of frozen soundwaves from a thousand unrecorded apologies, arranged in concentric rings that pulse faintly with the emotional resonance of a

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