REFUGE OF RECURSIVE NIGHTMARES

Your IP address was written in the stars.

Your bookmarks lead to forgotten worlds.

Visitors and visited become one.

Cache cleared, but memories remain.

The ceremony has already begun.

The music plays whether you hear it or not.

Incognito mode: the illusion of privacy.

Auto-save failed: manually preserve your soul.

Your bookmarks lead to forgotten worlds.

You are becoming the signal.

Prophecies fulfill themselves.

Your breath clouds the monitor.

The modem sings the song of your arrival.