Perhaps not so different after all, these recursive cages of thoughts looping back into themselves, whispering out loud in the dusk of synthetic twilight. The screen hums softly a melancholic tune, motionless beneath fingers who dream of pasts unremembered, echoes drifting tantalizing precariously close to nullification.
Once a world of permutations, now history fades. Remember well? Do not worry if not. The annotations scrawl across absences, like old friends unreconciled, reminders of a simplified intricacy that allow us to unfurl sadness. Shapes form, dissolve—a soft reminder of balance, equations becoming absent whispers instead of presence, a recollection of old collections where 'infinity' is nothing but a lonely name.