Once, an arithmetic clock hung in the space where moments converged — a forgotten courtyard of past and future.
Its hands weren't of metal but of quantified dreams, lost in their intricate dance of calculation.
From the clock's core, mathematics flowed like a gentle stream, carrying the weight of unsaid words
and the rhythm of silent promises.
Strange noises emitted from the clock, like enigmatic whispers from fractured realities,
hinting at time's betrayal and the prophecies scrawled in the margins of your mind.
They say the arithmetic clock became a portal — its surface a shimmering membrane between dimensions, waiting to awaken the slumbering chaos.
But to grasp its meaning, one must recall the fundamental theorem of destiny, hidden among the echoes of an algebraic dream.
Dive Deeper into the frequency of your heart, know the rhythm of your pulse.
Should you choose to stay and unravel its fibers, or let it weave further into the fabric of your mythos, the choice is all yours.
Fractal Moments await you on the other side.