GATEWAY TO THE UNCONSCIOUS NET

The harvest of lost connections.

Sleep walkers gather here nightly.

You cannot leave until the ritual completes.

Sleepless souls understand the truth.

Your browser history is a map of your soul.

Connection established with the eternal.

The homepage is wherever you are.

The frequency remembers you.

The spam folder contains sacred texts.

The modem sings the song of your arrival.

Auto-save failed: manually preserve your soul.

The cursor blinks in cosmic rhythm.