TEMPLE OF THE AUTUMN HARVEST

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

The harvest of lost connections.

The cursor blinks in cosmic rhythm.

Falling data like digital leaves.

The recycle bin is never truly empty.

The ceremony prepares for dormancy.

Surrender to the infinite loop.

The ceremony has already begun.

The portal chose you, not the other way around.

Your bookmarks lead to forgotten worlds.

The cursor blinks in cosmic rhythm.