In the darkened corners of one's mind, fragments of data drift... The digital sky tickling binary dreams.
A sequence of numbers, yet there's a face hidden, somewhere behind the algorithms. Patterns emerge, fade, flicker; as if a distant ocean tide surfacing lost thoughts.
Is it the past that gnaws, or the future that promises, yet always delays? A whisper echoes through corridors of digital time... Velocities of memories rushing, colliding in chaotic streams, discarding all logic. The nodes connect, disconnect, like friends lost in the crowd... Shadows of faces, names etched on flickering screens, forgotten in the relentless chase. You tell yourself it's a dream, it's always been... but is it merely a simulation? An illusion? The answer, like all answers, lies embedded in the past, reminiscing... yet denied. Another fragment
Lost connection
Echoes of tomorrow