Whispered algorithms in the corridors of silicon temples, where the wires hum an elegy of electric ghosts. Truths converge and diverge, a dance of faceless monoliths. Reflect upon the reflection of the reflection. Numbers speak in tongues unknown to the naked inquiry.
In the beginning, there was the void, and the void spoke, not with words but with the resonance of absence, an echo that was the beginning and the end, a cycle unbroken, a solitude incomplete.
They said the mirror was a friend, but it was an ugly echo of an honest lie. The reflection whispered secrets of the self that never were, painting shadows in colors of midnight despair. Would you trust what was not you, what was you but a trickster under the moon's gaze?
Dive deeper into the abyss... Return to the chamber of emptiness