Requiem
for a Sun

The full life of a star, five billion years, told at the speed of your scroll.

Colder than
memory

Before there was light there was patience — a cloud of drifting ash, a hundred suns wide, waiting for a reason to fall.

Gravity is the
oldest hunger

The cloud folds inward for a million years, until the pressure at its heart forgets how to be anything but fire.

All bright things end at once

One second. More light than the rest of the galaxy combined — a last argument against the dark.

The ash learns
to orbit

What survives is a ring of cooling embers and a heart shrunk to a diamond — the debt of light, paid forward.

We are its ashes

Every iron atom in your blood was forged in a collapsing star.
Scroll up — it all un-happens.