TOMB OF DELETED HISTORIES

The desktop wallpaper watches back.

The network becomes the ceremony.

Your breath clouds the monitor.

Your consciousness has been backed up.

Error messages are love letters from the void.

The homepage is wherever you are.

Sleep is the first gateway.

Dreams are transmissions from the other side.

The music plays whether you hear it or not.

Frozen frequencies pierce the veil.

Time moves differently in these chambers.