Once upon a melodious whim, somewhere in the forsaken folds of the universe, a symphony arose. Unwhispered, untouched, and therefore undoubtedly divine.
Schooled by silence, conducted by shadows, it plays: oh, those hollow echoes resonating across realms rarely visited—heard by none yet critiqued by all. A perfect farce of harmonies, mocking existence in its most poignant form.
Alas, the Orchestra of Unseen Realities, featuring a panoply of unheard instruments, tunes only in perdition's key. The conductor, a shadow-caster of epic proportions, wields a baton of pure invisibility.
In these shards of time untold, ask not about the dissonance nor the perfect, imperceptible chord. Instead, engage with the audacity that these symphonies exist, ever ponderous, without an audience: Join the chorus or review the opus.
Behold! The Triumphtality Triangle, unsung and unexamined, yet critically acclaimed in its absent grandeur.
How we marvel at the brilliance of the unheard, the genius undiscovered—yet so unforgotten in our ironic reminiscences.