The Silent Orbit

We trace the silent orbit of dust, suspended in the pale slant of a dying sun, where time is measured not by clocks, but by the quiet settling of stars.

A fragile tether holds us here, bound to the memory of an emerald world, while shadows lengthen across the hull and the void stretches infinite and cold.

In this metallic womb, we are ghosts, whispering to the vacuum, waiting for the slow, inevitable dawn to ignite the darkness once more.