HALL OF INFINITE RECURSION

Your mouse movements are a sacred dance.

Your bookmarks lead to forgotten worlds.

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

Every click brings you deeper into the pattern.

The servers dream of electric sheep.

The loading bar measures your spiritual progress.

Winter solstice opens hidden channels.

The portal chose you, not the other way around.

Your browser history is a map of your soul.

The end is a new beginning.