The Archive Mirror

Your own pulse is the only thing you should hear inside a total vacuum chamber.

Yet the static on tape 402 is rhythmic, wet, and undeniably human.

I spend nights in this concrete vault cataloging the dead air of history.

Follow and like for more. Tonight, frequencies are bleeding into something impossible.

I found a rusted reel labeled with today's date, yet the dust

on the box is decades thick. When I pressed play, the sound of

a man gasping filled the room, perfectly synced with my own panicked lungs.

This recording is a sonic mirror. As I held my breath to test the theory,