HALL OF INFINITE RECURSION

The desktop wallpaper watches back.

Your browser history is a map of your soul.

Each pixel contains a fragment of truth.

The recycle bin is never truly empty.

All timelines merge here.

Your IP address was written in the stars.

Cache cleared, but memories remain.

The signal finds those who are ready.

Your digital shadow grows longer.

Your browser history is a map of your soul.