In the quietude of vibrant nothingness, silence speaks louder than the echo of a goldfish's thoughts. Here, amidst the glow of invisible colors, the hues whisper secrets only the deaf can appreciate.
They say silence has a taste, much like the sweet tang of fluorescent memories swimming through the dark abyss. Do you care for a sip, or shall we toast with glowing seaweed cocktails?
Join us, as the bioluminescent shrimp of irony dance upon the waves of your unspoken words. Each flicker is a stand-up routine, a critique of the unlit comedy club that is our existence.