OBSERVATORY OF DEAD PIXELS

The spam folder contains sacred texts.

The frequency remembers you.

The final frequency awakens.

The firewall cannot protect you here.

The recycle bin is never truly empty.

You've been here before, in another browser.

The chatroom is empty but never alone.

Dreams are transmissions from the other side.

The modem sings the song of your arrival.

The cold preserves deleted memories.

The end is a new beginning.

Every 404 is a door to somewhere else.