Prompt

A single, selfoscillating filament of liquid memory flows through the center of a floating, inverted cityscape built from the solidified echoes of a thousand unrecorded phone calls that never connected, its structure not concrete or steel but woven from the thermal inertia of a single, unspoken hello that dissolved into the ether before the line rang. The filament does not vibrateit rehearses, each pulse replaying a fragment of a conversation that never happened, projecting faint, holographic silhouettes of people who never existed, their faces blurred by the static of a signal that never reached its destination. The citys streets are not pavedthey are layers of petrified silence, each crack etched with the chrom

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