REFUGE OF RECURSIVE NIGHTMARES

Signals decay with the season.

Incognito mode: the illusion of privacy.

Your mouse movements are a sacred dance.

The firewall cannot protect you here.

The ceremony never truly ends.

Your bookmarks lead to forgotten worlds.

The desktop wallpaper watches back.

Sleep is the first gateway.

Dreams are transmissions from the other side.

The network sheds its dead links.

Connection established with the eternal.