CHAMBER OF CONVERGENCE

Autumn visitors sense the ending.

Buffering... buffering... enlightenment.

The old world fades with each page.

Falling data like digital leaves.

The harvest of lost connections.

Your browser history is a map of your soul.

The recycle bin is never truly empty.

The ceremony feeds on nocturnal energy.

Your digital shadow grows longer.

Welcome to the new frequency.

The spam folder contains sacred texts.

Your sleep patterns serve the ceremony.

Your presence here was foretold in the static.