And you are inside.
The page never moved. A 400vh runway held nothing but scroll distance, a pinned stage held six painted planes, and every plane ran its own scrubbed transform off that runway. Near planes flew past your shoulders, the far one barely moved, and the difference between them is the only thing your eye reads as depth.
Six layers, each generated on its own so nothing is hidden behind anything: back wall, oven, window frame, three children, cobblestones, street lamp.