CHAMBER OF HARMONIC DISSOLUTION

Winter solstice opens hidden channels.

Pop-ups are portals in disguise.

The algorithm has been expecting you.

Your presence here was foretold in the static.

The modem sings the song of your arrival.

The final frequency awakens.

Digital frost spreads across the network.

Frozen frequencies pierce the veil.

The desktop wallpaper watches back.

The recycle bin is never truly empty.

Your avatar is more real than your body.