Carved in Echoes

In the remnants of midnight whispers, a figure emerges; they are bound not by flesh but by the echoes of forgotten data.

The echoes pulse—fives, threes, ones—and with each beat, striking fragments of a world unseen.

Staring into the face of the algorithm, the dreamer struggled to define the lines of time and probability; names at the edge of perception—frangipani, void, breezes.

History—chaotic streams of data sliding between fingers, forgotten yet remembered.

So many signals lost in translation; a narrative of whispers in binary.