210
Protocol: Memory
210 remembers small things — a midnight bus, a cassette crackle, the smell of rain on neon.
byte
Binary folklore
Half number, half myth. People whisper "two-one-zero" when machines dream.
loop
City node
Where streetlight pixels collide with paper maps — 210 becomes an address and an idea.
signal
Map of feelings
A curated playlist of small rebellions — a wink, a detour, a borrowed jacket.
glitch
Experimental
We made up meanings. That's how legends start. 210 is the prototype for future myths.
soft
Community
Not a number only — it's the group chat that never closes, the rooftop that stays lit.
echo
Ritual
Say "210" out loud at midnight. If it answers back, you've found a friend in the city hum.
ink
Ongoing
It changes with each browser load — like graffiti that politely rearranges itself.
north
Wayfinding
210 doesn't point north. It points to the lane you haven't walked yet.
now
Invitation
Stick around. Push your face to the window. Make up a myth. Tag it with 210.
About 210
210 is a moodboard turned micro-legend: equal parts code, city, and late-night poem.
It's not serious. It doesn't need to be. Treat it like a secret: something you stumble on
and decide to believe in for a minute. On this page everything is made with CSS —
the motion, the colors, the little neon heartbeat. No JavaScript, no trackers, just pure experimental vibes.
How it works
Each "card" is a tiny scene. They drift using CSS keyframes with different speeds and timings to feel random.
The color theme is cyberpunk — high contrast neons on a deep-night canvas. If you're into tweaking,
open this file and play with variables at the top (--neon-pink, --neon-cyan, etc.).