a website that appears as a white limestone castle looming on the forest promontory — you can see its turrets and its great portal whispering through the dense fog that besieges the mountain always. a great sorcerer once paced these vaulted halls but no more. now it is baleful and empty. you can feel the eyes of forest folk on you on your path up to the gates — nervous to see if you'd really dare enter. there are yet echoes of magic here, you can feel them dancing between your bones as you cross the flagstones of the bridge into the mouth of the castle.
you left your phone with your car, on the shoulder of the main road, a mile or so back. somehow you knew the moment you saw the path curving off up the mountain that this place was a realm to be protected from and untouched by the modern world, a bastion from “content” and “engagement”. in a few hours, (or has it been a thousand?) you'll return to your car, start it up, carefully pull back onto the road, and you'll forget every wonder beheld inside the stony castle walls of the website, like a distant dream — because just as there is no room for cell phones and cyberspace in this slumbering world, there is no room for digital magic in yours.