Yesterday's tomorrow eroded by electric whispers, the wires hum a forgotten lullaby.
Theobald's journal speaks in static.
Chronicles erased by time's current, rewound by mechanisms unseen.
The ancient clock's heart beats in digital rhythms, a waltz unheard.
Invisible ink reveals not, except in shadows—where moments flicker like old film reels.
In the oscillating ether, palimpsests of voices linger; echoes of history, undefined and unclaimed.