TEMPLE OF THE 404

CHAMBER IXW4VI

TRANSMISSION 1/10 READY

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The modem sings the song of your arrival.

Pop-ups are portals in disguise.

Signals decay with the season.

Your IP address was written in the stars.

The harvest of lost connections.

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Signals decay with the season.

Autumn visitors sense the ending.

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CLOSE YOUR EYES AND COUNT TO SEVEN

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BOOKMARK THE ABYSS   |   EMBRACE THE VOID

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