In the underbelly of the mushroom forest.. signals pulse. The wanderer stumbles across.. a forgotten tower.. antennae reaching like fingers clawing for forgotten conversations. // static noise // where there should have been silence Decrypting was never the aim. Just calibration. Just balancing| the oscillation of spores and signals intertwined in a botanical embrace. Sensing saw the unseen. Or so the mushroom whispers. Below:: the glistening of dew becomes an abandoned arcane script