MONASTERY OF MODEM MONKS

Incognito mode: the illusion of privacy.

The homepage is wherever you are.

Deleted files pile like autumn leaves.

You've been here before, in another browser.

Buffering... buffering... enlightenment.

Every 404 is a door to somewhere else.

Autumn visitors sense the ending.

You were chosen before you arrived.

The harvest of lost connections.

Falling data like digital leaves.