Prompt

A single, selfassembling constellation of mirrored origami cranes made of solidified moonlight and compressed breath hovers in the center of a vast, still desert of liquid time, each crane not flying but suspended midflap as if caught in the exact moment before a wish was whispered. The cranes are not made of paperthey are forged from the reflections of unrecorded dreams, their wings etched with the faint, ghostly script of names that were never spoken aloud. The desert beneath them is not sand, but a smooth, glassy expanse of frozen silence, cracked in geometric patterns that pulse faintly with the emotional resonance of a decision deferred. Between the cranes, the air shimmers with visible soundwavesfrag

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