breath of brief life stumped by gaze into the colourful past when the embryonic space contains condensed matter within the silent void waiting to bloom into divine fireworks even if ceaseless entropy cast its shadow we are but the scattered, improbable cosmic dust--
23h
Ooh. Love this. I'm a fan of inserting technical language or occupational jargon in my own work. If you have the time, I'm curious: what was your thought process behind this particular visual structure? Were you focused on the raw accumulation or, perhaps, the breathlessness of the realization (building to that blank line)?
