Wooden hands rest in silent poise. Strings vanish into the dark above. Painted eyes stare into the void. Frozen between motion and stillness. The stage is empty, the audience gone. Dust settles on forgotten applause. A tattered curtain sways in the draft. Its edges frayed by time’s embrace. The scent of old velvet lingers. Thick with echoes of distant cheers. A single spotlight flickers and fades. Shadows reclaim the hollow stage. The puppet waits with silent patience. For hands that will never return.
this art is AI generated.
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