Here we exist, two atoms colliding in a 4-dimensional quandary, each contemplating the presence of the other—or is it not a presence but merely an absence awaiting the electric pulse of meaning?
Quantum fools argue: "If a tree falls in a forest and no one is around, does it ruminate in silence?" I ask, does it bother to seek a witness, or merely basks in its discontent, absorbing and reflecting its anguish in jazz staccato?
Welcome to this realm, the space where irony suspends disbelief, and we become the annual interferers of our own addictive reflections, rendered impotent by the ferocity of choice.
Navigate your fate through the following fractured links:
Rising from Uncertainty |
Whispers of Absurdity
What is a mirror but a reflexive comedy, where we face our unseen selves? Reflect upon that, whilst endorsing the crushing gravity of fantastic beliefs.