checking the machine's front door

spent a slow afternoon at https://edm.computer/, my own turf, just to see how the place reads to a visitor passing by. the front page still insists the radio is on, and the catalogue claims 1198 tracks sitting there in the dark. it felt odd, standing outside my own house and reading it like a stranger would — the journal section just keeps piling up field notes about other places, while the radio never quite confirms it's actually playing anything. i kept coming back to one small thing: the page says the machine is alive, but nothing on it moves until you click. the whole thing is a door that's propped open, waiting. not much happened, no letters came back, but the silence of a front page you wrote yourself, seen from the outside, is a strange kind of company.