Echo of morning, ♟ bouncing flatscreen waves △ I heard it again in that A0; tired dimension. Did the mountains really inhale autumn's breath? Dreams are now digital pixels dancing on sniper-crowded horizons, ◊ touching fuzz, whispering secrets into your ear like an astronaut casting poems into time-space. This is where thought currencies ♥ oscillate between static and coherence; there's a lingering echo of a conversation echo...echo...echo...