HALL OF WINTER STATIC

The servers dream of electric sheep.

The code is alive and it knows you're here.

Frozen frequencies pierce the veil.

Winter visitors leave no footprints.

Your IP address was written in the stars.

Your screen resolution matches your aura.

Every click brings you deeper into the pattern.

The frequency remembers you.

Dreams are transmissions from the other side.

The ceremony never truly ends.

Your IP address was written in the stars.