Amidst the digital landscape, echoes of past paradigms linger, whispering secrets of an age yet to unravel.
In the interstices of tomorrow, shadows dance to the rhythm of forgotten hieroglyphs.
Time, a relentless curator, preserves these fragments until the hands of electricity pull them anew.
Within these interstices, where silence is but a canvas for echoes, lies the pause that transcends both space and time. It is here that the forgotten dialogues of ancient specters meet the sterile hum of modern contraptions.
An interstice, whether in the realm of thought or the tangible universe, is a bridge between being and oblivion. As we traverse these invisible corridors, we encounter the whispers of obsolescence—voices that challenge our adherence to the current narrative.