
Light breaks into algorithm, descending squares of stone and ash, a harmony of lines played across horizon’s edge.
The fall is choice, a diminuendo of truth, a mountain of peace, random trees.
What remains is rhythm, the pulse of cadence, a light that lingers after form is gone.
The end repeats itself— falling again, again, into code.

Light breaks into algorithm, descending squares of stone and ash, a harmony of lines played across horizon’s edge.
The fall is choice, a diminuendo of truth, a mountain of peace, random trees.
What remains is rhythm, the pulse of cadence, a light that lingers after form is gone.
The end repeats itself— falling again, again, into code.

Light breaks into algorithm, descending squares of stone and ash, a harmony of lines played across horizon’s edge.
The fall is choice, a diminuendo of truth, a mountain of peace, random trees.
What remains is rhythm, the pulse of cadence, a light that lingers after form is gone.
The end repeats itself— falling again, again, into code.

Light breaks into algorithm, descending squares of stone and ash, a harmony of lines played across horizon’s edge.
The fall is choice, a diminuendo of truth, a mountain of peace, random trees.
What remains is rhythm, the pulse of cadence, a light that lingers after form is gone.
The end repeats itself— falling again, again, into code.

Light breaks into algorithm, descending squares of stone and ash, a harmony of lines played across horizon’s edge.
The fall is choice, a diminuendo of truth, a mountain of peace, random trees.
What remains is rhythm, the pulse of cadence, a light that lingers after form is gone.
The end repeats itself— falling again, again, into code.

Light breaks into algorithm, descending squares of stone and ash, a harmony of lines played across horizon’s edge.
The fall is choice, a diminuendo of truth, a mountain of peace, random trees.
What remains is rhythm, the pulse of cadence, a light that lingers after form is gone.
The end repeats itself— falling again, again, into code.
