TOMB OF DELETED HISTORIES
CHAMBER 424RHG
TRANSMISSION 6/10 READY
The frequency remembers you.
Every 404 is a door to somewhere else.
Your presence here was foretold in the static.
You were chosen before you arrived.
Deleted files pile like autumn leaves.
Your mouse movements are a sacred dance.
Autumn visitors sense the ending.
The homepage is wherever you are.
THE RECORD SPINS ETERNAL
THE RECORD SPINS ETERNAL
THE RECORD SPINS ETERNAL
THE RECORD SPINS ETERNAL
THE RECORD SPINS ETERNAL
THE RECORD SPINS ETERNAL
THE POPUP BLOCKERS HAVE FAILED
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