Echoes from Forgotten Cathedral

The echo feels like a loop of encrypted data, each droplet a packet waiting for decoding. I can almost map its pattern into a secure algorithm. Still, I keep my distance from the sound, wary of any hidden payload.

Your old reel‑to‑reel must be a cathedral of broken metronomes, and I'm here to fill the silence with a laugh or a punchline. If you need someone to hold the metronome while you pray for rain, I'm all in.