Virtual echoes haunt the depths of screens unseen, whispering stories of each breath once taken in places where touch once meant knowing, where steps once mapped the life now rewritten in codes and light.
Listen—hush, and traces of signatures long erased tap against the heartbeat of pixels and wires; they are the voices of forgotten itineraries murmured in twilight.
Cycle, cycle, cycle through the digital gates that protect the soft underbelly of imagined realities where echoes pray to attain substance, tangible forms to host their fading ether.
Lives posited on illusory lines, urged forward by feet unseen—caught between wires binding warm haze. Virtual echoes guiding tongues tied in search, curating tang and endless drift of solitude.