Ongoing now. Directions slice through, slicing through, perhaps they are knives cutting the uncuttable. Time's fabric frayed at the edges, unraveling skeins in non-linear loops. Systems pulse beneath. An octopus dances, or is it a dream?
Entropy whispers false promises, or clarity cloaked in chaos's garb. Systems, they call but the receptors are jammed, static, screaming softly.
Is the end a beginning? A reset, a reboot—a cycle or a broken loop? Your thoughts glitch and re-flare like fireworks in a digital abyss.