MONASTERY OF MODEM MONKS

The modem sings the song of your arrival.

The old world fades with each page.

Digital frost spreads across the network.

The desktop wallpaper watches back.

The homepage is wherever you are.

Every 404 is a door to somewhere else.

Digital frost spreads across the network.

The recycle bin is never truly empty.

The cursor blinks in cosmic rhythm.

Your cookies remember what you've forgotten.

The old world fades with each page.