Through static, voices whisper across fibers of forgotten song—our radio spins melodies back to essence: hidden notes plead backward for free souls unwrapped.
Ever hear the echo of a dream dissolve? Station K-L-C, Tune to Misunderstanding, pause to embrace the residual solace.
Meridians shaped from leaps not taken, sleep scripts paused in perpetual landing—but what did the static say, when clear until blurred words were forgotten entirely?