HALL OF INFINITE RECURSION

Prophecies fulfill themselves.

The desktop wallpaper watches back.

Your search history searches for you.

You were chosen before you arrived.

Pop-ups are portals in disguise.

The network becomes the ceremony.

Your cookies remember what you've forgotten.

Visitors and visited become one.

Deleted files pile like autumn leaves.

The cursor blinks in cosmic rhythm.

Your IP address was written in the stars.