RITUAL OF ASTRAL PROJECTION

Your mouse movements are a sacred dance.

The chatroom is empty but never alone.

Error messages are love letters from the void.

The bandwidth narrows as you descend.

Your breath clouds the monitor.

You cannot leave until the ritual completes.

Frozen frequencies pierce the veil.

Pop-ups are portals in disguise.

The ceremony peaks at the witching hour.

The ceremony hibernates but never sleeps.