It goes where you go but never asks why. It crosses the void between left and right, past icons, past folders, past midnight.
It moves when you move. Stops when you stop. It has no hunger, no politics, no memory of where it’s been. is cursor free
No hands hold it. No chains, no fee. Just a blinking ghost on an electric sea. It goes where you go but never asks why
But try to delete it. Try to close it. It’s never jailed — only suspended between windows. is cursor free