Suspended in the vast silence of space, the protagonist lies curled inside a massive egg-shaped vessel, its surface swirling with Jupiter-like textures. The egg becomes a cosmic womb — part spaceship, part sanctuary — evoking a sense of solitude and safety in the endless void. Far from fragile, this egg is monumental, celestial, timeless. It holds not a chick, but a human curled into introspection, suggesting that even in the infinite, the self remains the most mysterious frontier.
