Somewhere amidst the digital ether, the echoes of coordinates whisper. The ink they leave behind, a subconscious pattern traced upon the vast canvas of virtual infinity.
"North, wander; South, ponder; East, a wisp; West, the echo."
Do you feel it? The pull of unseen vectors? The tug of silent forces? You stand at the edge of the web, staring into its intricacies, and it calls to you.
Coordinates whisper softly, tracing paths through dreams, unseen, unfelt, yet essential as breath, as heartbeat.
"Ink upon the void, echoes in the silence of light."