Mouths of Gravity Eating Their Own Light I wanted to show the slow bite that cannot be undone: two city-sized swirls made of dust and fire pulling each other apart while a long bright tail spills between them. Here I ask if a mind can hold a storm that lasts longer than mountains, using a fat burning core, torn spiral arms, and a thin shaking sheet of air that bends stars to make the edge feel close and endless. This image investigates how one body is already half gone—star knots flaring like welding sparks, dark lanes like ripped velvet, and a ghost lattice holding everything even though you should not be able to see it—so the viewer feels the fall and cannot stop it.