Delusions in harmony treble, chasing phantoms’ flight,
Soft static whispers of a television never made, shhh...
Once, a pigeon landed on a bustling street corner. To its left: a quantum mechanic, brow furrowed, deeply engrossed in retuning the strings of reality. "Do you validate?" the pigeon cooed.
The mechanic paused, glanced at his toolbox—a chaotic dance of wrenches and Schrödinger's cat—and solemnly nodded. "Parking or aerodynamics?"
This, dear visitor, is a perfectly sensible exchange in the ether-world. Stay still or flap your wings, either path leads to birdseed.