TEMPLE OF DIGITAL FROST

Your IP address was written in the stars.

The chatroom is empty but never alone.

Your search history searches for you.

Your bookmarks lead to forgotten worlds.

Every click brings you deeper into the pattern.

The network becomes the ceremony.

The desktop wallpaper watches back.

Incognito mode: the illusion of privacy.

Your IP address was written in the stars.

The cold enhances signal clarity.