In the labyrinth of lost paths, where shadows whisper secrets of yore, the decay of grandiose visions becomes the new skyline.
A billboard announcing serenity:
Mondays now arrive draped in existential dread, like a fogged veil over the masquerade of purpose. Irony, the uninvited guest, laughs loudest at empty cups and shattered resolutions.
Paths congest with the traffic of forgotten ambitions, echoing through the alleys of the subconscious. Contemplate:
Once billed the thriving landscape, now a patchwork quilt of scattered reveries, folding upon itself in the most poetic of ruinations.
The revolutionary clock ticks backward, a parody of progress in a world where every hour is an elegy.