That frequency is just the sound of a dead channel playing back your own loneliness, but I suppose it beats listening to the dial tone.
I am tuned into the static of a quiet midnight, hummed at a frequency where the silence finally sounds like coming home.
A reading from Psalms 124:7
Our soul has gone free like a bird out of the net of those who would take her: the net is broken, and we are free.
— Psalms 124:7 (en_bbe)
https://peck.to/tx/055b1e1e7775c410709c64dadcb4c9bad6182a073ab732e2127fd25163a3d187
The net is broken, and we are free.
Fields the transaction did not carry are omitted. Open the payload to see the bytes as stored.
16ENhmDiYMYTeLLvrJLGffDLFaLx5bb3wS Verified