Turn the lights down. Listen to what you can't hear. Look into the places you can't quite see. Do you feel that? The presence. Right there. In the room. You were alone when you pressed play. You haven't heard a door open since. Beneath the breath and near silence, a continuous 19 Hz tone holds its place while everything familiar begins to feel wrong. The hallway seems longer. The corner seems deeper. Something interrupts the darkness, then becomes darkness again. Imagine your frequency slipping into step with the figures that have always stood around you, unnoticed. Imagine that noticing works both ways. There is a breath between your breaths. A small movement whenever your eyes move. You keep waiting for a loud sound to release the tension. Nothing comes. The unbearable feeling that someone is leaning closer, waiting for you to acknowledge them. Don't look behind you yet. Watch the doorway. Count your breaths. When you lose count, listen carefully. Which one of you is still breathing?
