"In the depths, where silence reigns, whispers form bridges—echoes of lost transmissions, fragments from digital shores."
Untangle the murmur, sift through noise—
Signal and static dance, a ballet of bygone pulsars.
"Morse dreams in beeps and pauses, waiting, aching for echoes—
They were here, weren't they?"
Truth in the gaps, solace in distortion.
Contact via the undercurrent, a message not sent, yet received.