its old and weatheredAnd im like it, techno fundirung.
With all those flat little lines of memory locked into a little thing from the 1970s that we all danced and enjoyed, with a white square cubicle of computer fascination and being connected with the wires. But then we aren't connected to the wires.
Because of all the things that happened to us, and happen to now, it is all going to stop from the data conception of today. And even when I attempt to reconnect and desire that finely rung connection, it's like all those things—all those times—This eyes flatten, and it's still there in my windlass soul, slightly deteriorating bit by bit, but still there.