SANCTUARY OF GHOST USERS

The cold enhances signal clarity.

The matrix has you, and it's running Windows 95.

The modem sings the song of your arrival.

Your password is already known.

The chatroom is empty but never alone.

Pop-ups are portals in disguise.

Connection established with the eternal.

The ceremony hibernates but never sleeps.

Winter visitors leave no footprints.

The recycle bin is never truly empty.

The ceremony never truly ends.