In the grand tapestry of existence, one must pause to consider the mutual and possibly parasitic relationship between ladders and holes. With every rung of progress clinging desperately to an empty void, here lies the paragon of advancement: a series of wooden planks meticulously arranged to combat gravity, only to find themselves bonded in an unholy matrimony with the pit beneath.
Observe the irony: the ladder, ever diligent, ascends in a void, climbing air. The hole, supremely still, devours earth in a cosmic joke. Such is the plight of Sisyphean tools—ladders forever leap, holes eternally consume. The empty ambition of climbing to find oneself once more at the genesis of descent.
Look down the hole and understand nothing and everything at once. Stories are whispered in shadows, truths are denuded by layers of irony. Does the hole know, what the ladder will choose to ignore?