Static... the echoes they never cease to resonate, a cacophony of forgotten dreams scraping along the shoreline of memory. Did you hear it? A whisper that lingered just a breath too long on the nape of your thoughts, curling like smoke, dissolving... dissolving... another truth submerged.

Somewhere in the void, a voice trembles. It speaks of clocks that turn backward, of nights woven with threads of daylight. Shouting silently into the wind, chasing shadows that mock with laughter. Can you decode their language? Flickering stars remember.

Transmission lost... found... corrupt data. Patterns emerge and dissolve like the tide on endless sand. The shore is alive with whispers, secrets exchanged among the phantoms that dance on the cusp of waking. In the rhythm of the restless waves, reality blurs. Do you follow it? Radio waves speak.

The ghoulish patterns © compliance unknown; flicker at this... angle... at that... listen closely and they will tell you a secret, the kind found when the stars forget to shine. In that gentle negligence, a truth waits, timeless, nameless. Twist time.

Echoes of something, a song half-remembered, a line spoken just above the threshold of silence. A melody that binds the heart to the vastness of the sea. Its chords outlast the fleeting moments of joy, resonating with the depth of reality itself...