In the corners of my attention, where whispers from distant radios converge like ghostly murmurs, I hear fragments. Landscapes of interference. "Can any understanding come from jittered waves?"
There's a signal in the fog, a beacon made of static.
Echoes blend together, forming forgotten lyrics.
"Stay tuned," they say, but for what purpose?
Beyond the scrambling, secrets bloom like flowers in a cryptic garden. Emotions entwined in electron jives and bites.
A hint of a smile in the code...
while sentences zip beyond meaning, scattershot logic echoes from time's broken bowstrings.
Radios tuned to analog arts, filling with burst and shimmer—a world alive with noise selective and foreign.
From Whisper Unraveled Resonance