SHRINE OF THE DIAL-UP GODS

Your mouse movements are a sacred dance.

Your mouse movements are a sacred dance.

Winter visitors leave no footprints.

Your IP address was written in the stars.

Sleep walkers gather here nightly.

The shadows are full of watchers.

The shadows are full of watchers.

The shadows contain hidden messages.

Digital frost spreads across the network.

The portal chose you, not the other way around.