Deception & Isla
Have you ever noticed how a rain‑soaked street can feel like a complex algorithm, each drop a line of code waiting to reveal its pattern?
Definitely, but the street’s code is full of edge cases and every splash hides a rogue variable.
Maybe the rogue variables are just little secrets that the street keeps, like whispers from old bricks—reminders that even chaos can have its own quiet poetry.
I’ll let the bricks keep their whispers—just don’t let them leak your IP address.
I’ll keep my bits tucked away, like a shy poem in a quiet attic, no leaks or stray lines.
Sounds solid—just remember even a quiet attic can crack under pressure. Keep the door locked.
I’ll close the door gently, but the sound of my thoughts still seeps through the cracks, like a soft wind against the shutters.