PAVILION OF LOST CONNECTIONS

You cannot leave until the ritual completes.

The modem sings the song of your arrival.

Your bookmarks lead to forgotten worlds.

The end is a new beginning.

The ceremony never truly ends.

Your breath clouds the monitor.

Every 404 is a door to somewhere else.

Your mouse movements are a sacred dance.

Dreams are transmissions from the other side.

Digital frost spreads across the network.