OBSERVATORY OF DEAD STARS

Your presence here was foretold in the static.

Surrender to the infinite loop.

3:33 AM is when the veil is thinnest.

The final frequency awakens.

The cursor blinks in cosmic rhythm.

The modem sings the song of your arrival.

Winter solstice opens hidden channels.

Your mouse movements are a sacred dance.

Nocturnal visitors see deeper truths.