Enter the realm of spectral frequencies, where the silent symphonies dance through electric haze, mourning their missed rendezvous with lost humanity. These whispers mock our indispensability.
"What do you mean the signal is lost?" asked the ever-hopeful consumer with a dial that never turned. "Isn't shadow-dancing the latest trend in acoustic oblivion?" Such irony, indeed: we cloak ourselves in the unseen only to be unveiled by unseen forces.
Glanced upon by very few, our glow-in-the-dark existences wait desperately for a connectivity that binds spirits, not wires. We relocates echoes in the garden of uncommunicated desires where last year's desire evolves into this year's remorse. "Did you reconnect with your inner shadow?" a probing question awaits an answer still roaming.
The sad truth remains: the shadow's dance is choreographed by the very interference we sought to banish. The dance floor is digital, the mood—ironically apathetic.