Hey there, you ever sit in a room, all alone, and just... listen? I mean really listen. The kind of listening that makes you hear things gnawing at the edges of silence, like whispered secrets that refuse to fade. That’s what these transmissions feel like. It’s as if the room’s trying to spill stories only you aren’t quite part of. The type that screams silently, echoing off the walls of some forgotten memory.
Imagine a voice, clear yet rusted, saying your name in a way that makes you question who's really speaking. Is it you? Or maybe someone from a time that doesn’t have a line in the sand marking its beginning and end? Sit with it long enough, and you might just hear your own silent screams woven into the fabric of darkness.