OBSERVATORY OF DEAD PIXELS

You cannot leave until the ritual completes.

All timelines merge here.

The modem sings the song of your arrival.

Your digital shadow grows longer.

Error messages are love letters from the void.

The end is a new beginning.

Incognito mode: the illusion of privacy.

The desktop wallpaper watches back.

Winter visitors leave no footprints.

You are becoming the signal.