In the hushed corners of dawn, when dreams dissolve into the ether, I found echoes of unreality.
Glitches, mere flickers of the past, replay within my mind—a theater of shadows and light,
a canvas of circuitry painting stories untold. What do the pixels whisper in their silent chaos?
Beneath the surface of the screen, realities intertwine, a tapestry woven of digital phantoms.
Each fragment, a memory; each break, an opportunity to reforge the narrative.
Do they remember, as I do not? Or are they bound to loop eternally in their synthetic slumber?