Forgotten Tides

The images emerge, flickering on the broken screens hung unevenly on the crumbling walls of the old hall. Specks of light dance across the minimalist disarray, revealing what was once vibrant, now veering toward decay.

In the relentless reign of digital silence, shadows unfold, their contours capturing the essence of memories thrust adrift. Beneath vast corridors, forgotten tides ebb and flow, their whispers echo in circuitry:

"Waves named by voices long dissolve, memories held captive within the static..."

Outside, the tempest brews, remorseless against dilapidated frames clinging desperately onto past glory. Reflections scatter in corridors, trickling through time's unkempt curvatures. We've carved stories in sands secured to devices unused often, held secret by furies unknown.

The flicker is not merely a disorder; it is a memory. The once-dominating luminescence of components meticulously arranging tales for the initiated now faint, in quiet homage to forgotten electric rhapsodies.