In the cosmic expanse of digital silence, where every heartbeat is a byte and every thought a line of script,
the universe spins, pauses, and rewinds.
Signals of quiet interference dance across the sky, their patterns lost in the ether.
Programs written in ancient tongues, deciphered in the gaps between breaths,
each variable a whisper, each function an echo.
Existential debug logs written by unseen hands,
tracing the infinite loops of silent wonder.
As you gaze at the screen, the constellations shift,
forming and reforming in the shadow of your blinking cursor.
Whispers of the Void
Streams of Light