Have you ever wondered what holds the universe together? No, not gravity or those overhyped quantum strings, but the humble textile. Blankets of cosmic irony, woven with threads of time and space. It's all fabric, really. Explore the shift.
The manual on universal navigation is simple: warp the weft and fret not, for dimension is but a stitch away. Irony impales the tightly yarned cosmos, poking holes through which existentialists can pass.
Encounter the edges, where reality frays and dimly lit truths peek through. Slip into the gaps—a portal in every pothole, a gateway in every grain of sand. Read more.
"Ironically, I enjoy the irony," said the existentialist to the weaver of worlds, as a cosmic thread caught in a loop of self-reference. What color is your reality? Crimson Threads may just tell you.
— A manifesto lost amidst the mundane, or perhaps found in the folds of irony itself.