Prompt

A single, selfilluminating filament of compressed stillness threads through the center of a floating, inverted library of smoke, its structure not wood or paper but woven from the thermal inertia of a thousand unburned pages that never turned. The filament does not pulseit unfolds, each contraction releasing a wave of zeroentropy silence that dissolves the fabric of time into a mist of crystalline dust, each particle etched with the chromatic echo of a sentence that never reached the end. The librarys shelves are not staticthey are slowmotion spirals of vaporized ink, each book a hollowedout memory of a thought that evaporated before it could be named. The air is thick with the scent of ozone and

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