BASILICA OF BROKEN LINKS

Your mouse movements are a sacred dance.

Digital decay creates new patterns.

The ceremony approaches convergence.

Your presence here was foretold in the static.

Your IP address was written in the stars.

The ceremony never truly ends.

The network sheds its dead links.

Incognito mode: the illusion of privacy.

Prophecies fulfill themselves.

The music plays whether you hear it or not.