They say, the portals remain open, if only for the brave and the occasionally sensible. Shadows cast by flickering LED torches, whisper tales of ancient microchips and programs unspooled like old tapes, overgrown dust in binary.
At the edge of our pixelated promenade, we find reflections. Oh, the delightful irony! Mirrors made not of glass but of shattered promises and idle dreams, hung precariously on walls that do not exist.
What trembles in these misty corridors? Surely not the echoes of your social media likes nor the spectral ghosts of yesteryear's trending hashtags.
Here lies the revered map of electronic wanderings. Click not in hope, but in gentle despair: