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They say this is where the equations grew tired of themselves. Where the speed of light laid down its burden, and the constants took off their armor of necessity.
Here, gravity hums in a low mantra beneath the lotus fountains; entropy pauses to watch its own reflection in the water.
The architects built no walls — only symmetry. The air itself is a theorem, solved into peace.
In this garden, every atom remembers its first vibration. The photons drift not toward entropy but toward comprehension.
Somewhere, beyond the twin suns and silent spheres, the universe still expands —
but here, in this place, existence breathes in, and does not breathe out.