Prompt

A single, selfilluminating tangle of bioluminescent thread unravels from the center of a floating, inverted lighthouse built from the fused remains of a thousand unlit matches that never sparked, its strands not fibrous but spun from the thermal afterimage of a single, forgotten breath held just before a flame was never lit. The thread does not glowit unglows with each pulse, retracting a millennium of potential combustion into its core, condensing into a dense, emerald knot that hums with the harmonic resonance of a spark that never ignited. The lighthouses lantern room is not glassit is a hollowedout sphere of petrified anticipation, each pane etched with the chromatic afterimage

Ai Model

FT Ai

Share

HTML Code