Once upon a pixelated dusk, the shadows convened for their annual dance—an event of such magnificent absurdity that even the walls of the internet trembled with laughter. Invisible lights illuminated their invisible forms, casting silhouettes that mocked the very existence of light itself.
To the untrained eye, this dance appears to be a mere simulation of motion, devoid of meaning, purpose, or even a hint of choreography. Yet, for those few enlightened beings (or so they claim), it represents the ultimate irony: a celebration of what isn't there, a festival of figures formed from the absence of form.
Join the dance, if you dare, and share in the satire of silhouettes. Phantom Whisper
Discover the irony further: Ritual Pomp