Somewhere in the constellations, a whisper of memories entangles. The clock ticks backwards and forwards, time a fickle friend.
Splatters of light, metallic reflections. Are they signals? Or just noise bouncing off the walls of existence?
Yesterday, a shadow said, "It's in the folds of reality." I searched, but then the rabbit hole widened in shade.
They sang songs of old technologies, their symphonies woven from discarded dreams. We cannot grasp what we've lost.
Traveling through veins of information—binary nothings radiating eternity. Look closer at the glitch in the fabric.
Imagine walking in circles, with fractals melting into the floor, slipping into spaces between spaces.
Wires in the Water connect us, tangle up in thought, spinning like a web in twilight. Acceptance fades like neon lights in fog.
Echoes of Another Life bounce back and forth—was that laughter or sirens, echoing in the mind's canyon?
Fractals of Perception: do they hold answers? Or is every glimpse just another artifact, a remnant?