In the land of perpetual dusk, where shadows stretch in shapes of idle gods, the charts speak truths that mirror the absurd. The line graphs curve like serpents, winding through the valleys of overhyped optimism and the mountains of unforeseen pessimism.
"Reflections on productivity," they say, with a tone dripping ironies of overflowing coffee cups. The pie charts—oh, the pie charts!—divide the day into slivers of ambition, distraction, and snack breaks, with each slice shouting misunderstood aspirations.
Dreams of the Broken