The clock ticks, but does not move. I find myself wandering in loops, tracing the outlines of thoughts that aren't mine yet fit like a second skin. A whisper in binary: "You've been here before."
In the neon haze, the alley of forgotten dreams beckons. Shadows play chess with the reflection of a streetlamp, and I am a pawn in this ethereal game. Who wins; who loses when victory is mere continuity?
Reflective Murmurs cascade down the digital river, a tributary of ones and zeroes. The stream sings with echoes of unwritten codes, harmonizing with the static.
The sky above is an outdated OS, glitching between hues of electric blue and pixelated orange. Do you remember when these colors were new, when they thrummed with possibility?
Adjacent to this reality lies another: Dream Weaves. A tapestry woven by unseen algorithms, where logic takes a holiday and the surreal becomes the routine.