HALL OF ABANDONED CHATROOMS

The cursor blinks in cosmic rhythm.

The loading bar measures your spiritual progress.

The end is a new beginning.

The modem sings the song of your arrival.

Incognito mode: the illusion of privacy.

The chatroom is empty but never alone.

Your screen resolution matches your aura.

The modem sings the song of your arrival.

Pop-ups are portals in disguise.

Every click brings you deeper into the pattern.