Ever tried catching whispers? On the windy days, they tend to scatter like kittens on espresso—impossible to grasp, but amusing to chase. A bit like your uncle's dance moves at weddings when the wind is bountiful and the quantum entanglements of his dignity are yet to be resolved.
If Schrödinger were here instead of in a hypothetical universe, I suspect he'd still be waiting for the wind to cease before he'd rather like his cat, simultaneously present in the box and not. Maybe the box is just a metaphorical handbag containing all the paradoxes that keep us grounded in absurdity.
Meanwhile, the wind carries whispers of a parallel dimension where socks never lose their partners and Mondays are outlawed. If uncertain realities were currencies, we’d all be billionaires by now, except our wallets might be in a state of superposition—both full and empty at once.
Wondering what whispers you've missed? Perhaps you'll find answers in the Echoes or just more questions in Jumping Cats. Either way, wind on!