Prompt

A single, selfilluminating filament of reversed gravity unravels from the center of a floating, inverted clocktower built from the fused remains of a thousand unlit hourglasses that never measured time that never existed. The filament does not glowit unglow, retracting a millennium of potential ticks into its core, condensing into a dense, mercuryblack helix that resonates with the harmonic frequency of a second that never passed. The towers face is not glassit is a hollowedout mirror of petrified anticipation, each hand etched with the chromatic afterimage of a moment suspended between the strike of a bell and the silence that followed. The gears are not metalthey are solidified breaths,

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