Dust dances in shafts of golden light. Floating through the still, heavy air. Wooden shelves tower in endless rows. Their edges worn by time’s gentle hands. Leather-bound books whisper with age. Their faded pages holding lost stories. A single candle flickers in the quiet. Its flame swaying like a breath of memory. The scent of old paper lingers. Rich with the echoes of a thousand words. Footsteps fade into the hush of history. As time stands still between the shelves. The past sleeps in ink and parchment. Waiting for curious hands to wake it.
this art is AI generated.
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