In the beginning, there was sound, and it was hollow.
Voices echoing amidst the silence, pretending to believe in the resonance of their own rhetoric—this, dear reader, is the stage of modern dialogue. Where curtains are drawn only to reveal an unending expanse of futility.
Our protagonist today? An omniscient narrator with an ironic twist, weaving tales of niche absurdities and forgotten nuances. Picture this:
A tavern of thoughts, dimly lit by the flickering glow of trending hashtags. The clientele? A motley assortment of browsers and devices, all nursing a quiet existential crisis while scrolling feverishly through curated feeds.
And in this dim-lit tavern, a bumbling philosopher, draped in digital robes, proclaims:
“To tweet or not to tweet, that is the inquiry.” Her voice rises, only to find solace in the familiar embrace of the empty void.
Irony dances gracefully through the alleys of perception, donning a mask, a veil of sophistication, and laughter that ripples through the current waves of thought—a current that somehow always washes ashore the same, tired arguments.
Yet, amidst the chaos and the always-on experiences, the curtain is pulled back again, revealing not the wizard behind the screen, but simply—*more screens*. Little did they know, their act was a satirical masterpiece, a tragic-comedy for the ages.
In this reality, where are the mirrors reflecting the self-reflected? Where, indeed, are the phantoms of opinions not yet voiced, or the ever-elusive shadows of substance?