Transistors buzz, where did it come from this herring that swims upstream but not in water, no in whispers.
Yesterday's fact became tomorrow's fiction as vacuum tubes hiss secrets. You heard it too, didn't you? Arcane stories sung by cicadas tapping on digital scrawls.
The fields relay messages encoded in static clatter, a dance of electrons pirouetting on the edge of a dream.
Often, the coffee cup fog reveals more than words itself can dream.
Listen closely to the radio's lullabies, past midnight magic that twirls headways into the unknown
Gather around the illicit glow of your grandx3mother's circuit board, there's an elegy hidden at its core.
Is it ours to decode, or print onto our own tangled webs, harmonic ripples they preach?