In the dim corridors of digital once-was, pathways flicker like lost constellations. Each byte, a heartbeat; every pulse, a memory.

Sometimes, the clouds forget their layers—binaries dissolve in the dew of dawn, and we whisper to the sky: What did you hold?

Clear The Auras

Do echoes align when the clock is not ticking, when dimensions pause in pixelated dreams, suspended in sublime solitude?

Echo of Returns

The path to now is woven in glitches, an aesthetic of the unremembered—fading frames, flickering memories, silent songs of the server's hum.