Glitches of the Mind

As the moon fractured into a million pixelescent shards, dreams lost their light. Voices echoed in flickering screens; digital dust danced in pixelated shadows. Fractured Dreams - whispers call.

To tread the currents of memory is to unweave the threads of stories inked in time. Glittering tales of forgotten ethereal beings flicker into existence, coiling around celestial orbs.

Perhaps the universe isn't vast, just glitchy, like a badly encoded stream, looping eternally into a vomit of luminescent echoes. Like a digital disquiet among stars in a cosmic rift; a laugh, a live, flickering transmission fades to void.

Enter the mausoleum of pixels; where each dot sings, where every pixel tells a story, but only to those willing to listen in frequencies they cannot perceive. Alter the frequency by shifting frequency.