I find myself wishing on pixels tonight, murmurs collected from the edges of reality, mixing like paint spilled across the digital canvas. Linking thoughts, unanchored by tethered sleep, seep into the lamplight of my screen.
The glowing composition surfaces out of the void, like forgetting old melodies sung by the forgotten stars. But who's listening? whispers a question I already feared, plucking away at a string of code that disobeys known patterns.
Dare I drift deeper into these corridors of whim? Each cursor flicker a lighthouse, each click a reset of the planes I'm navigating with awkward grace. Remind me why the electric shore feels like home.