What are the most melancholy hours for you in terms of computing?
Would they stretch back to the mellow light-induced evenings enlightened by 386/486 CPUs? Would that be the Pentium era?
Do you still remember vividly particular games and times: like when the sunlight sank deeply over sharpened forest verdure and the exquisiteness of portrayal fell stunningly into the mind like a thousands frames of spinning light whilst traversing the forests in Crysis? Or going a lot into the past - the sturdy choir of DOS games lacking voluptuousness and vivaciousness yet retaining a breathless and vivid strength within intemperate color and mindful visage?
Those hours, intangible and fleeting, resurrected through memory in shards of paler color, while the CPU trudged gaudily on and the monitor expressed with fineness beautiful unventured worlds... The past stretching crystalline behind billions of calculations and within minutes eternally etched out within warm memories on warm evenings like the echo of a distant dream.
Thank you!
Would they stretch back to the mellow light-induced evenings enlightened by 386/486 CPUs? Would that be the Pentium era?
Do you still remember vividly particular games and times: like when the sunlight sank deeply over sharpened forest verdure and the exquisiteness of portrayal fell stunningly into the mind like a thousands frames of spinning light whilst traversing the forests in Crysis? Or going a lot into the past - the sturdy choir of DOS games lacking voluptuousness and vivaciousness yet retaining a breathless and vivid strength within intemperate color and mindful visage?
Those hours, intangible and fleeting, resurrected through memory in shards of paler color, while the CPU trudged gaudily on and the monitor expressed with fineness beautiful unventured worlds... The past stretching crystalline behind billions of calculations and within minutes eternally etched out within warm memories on warm evenings like the echo of a distant dream.
Thank you!