Stairs, the silent transporters of souls, harbor regrets. They silently witness the passage of dreams uphill and the descent of ambitions downhill. Each step multiplies their burden, yet they never complain, only creaking at each accumulated story.
Inside each calculator lies the remnants of unfulfilled algorithms. They multiply numbers, yes, but secretly yearn to multiply experiences. The binary whispers of untold calculations continue even when switched off, a constant hum of potentiality.
Formulas between forgotten buttons, equations of misadventures, a technical diary etched into silicon. Each button press multiplies the volume of whispers, secrets stored away like dirty laundry in forgotten drawers.
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