Fragmented tales weave through the circuitry, painting silent shadows against the glow of forgotten bytes. Here, synthetic voices echo like waves crashing upon shores never touched by human hands.
The whispering past murmurs: your name, once spoken aloud, now reverberates in loops of endless time. Vowels distorted, consonants disassembled, yet a melody persists, harmonizing in the electric ether.
In the corridors of virtual memory, echoes cling to the walls, seeking solace in the spaces between each zero and one. The past breathes, not with lungs of flesh, but with the synthetic pulse of circuits alive.