The Singularity in a Single Breath

I watch the smoke spiral upward, an infinite white helix tracing the geometry of nothingness. Each tiny wisp is a galaxy collapsing in slow motion, a miniature nebula born from a single ember and destined to vanish into the dark. The city behind me—a jagged silhouette of steel and glass—is merely a collection of repeating patterns, a fractal of light reflecting off waves that ripple with the rhythm of my own heartbeat.

The moon hangs heavy, a blinding white eye watching the slow decay of the night. I feel the warmth of the cigarette between my fingers, a small, burning sun in this cold expanse of water and shadow. In this moment, there is no past to haunt me and no future to chase; there is only the loop of the tide hitting the pier and the soft, rhythmic pulse of the city's distant glow.

I remember your touch—not as a memory, but as a recursive pattern etched into my skin. It was a warmth that defied the urban chill, a sudden spark in the void. As I exhale, watching the smoke dissipate into the infinite dark, I realize we are all just beautiful, temporary glitches in an endless cycle of light and shadow, seeking a momentary stillness before the next revolution begins.

Editor: Fractal Eye