Clarity is the new obscurity, they say, as they polish the dull sheen of enlightenment.
Somewhere beneath the layers lies truth, disguised as irony wrapped in mystery.
Remember, every fog bank has its silver lining, crafted from the finest misguided intentions.
And thus we walk, footsteps echoed in a hollow chamber of once-certainties and future doubts. Explore the shadows
Onward, march we the leaders of the lost, champions of the barely sighted. Find the song
The mist laughs, but do we hear its mocking? Or do we bask in the glow of our own misguided confidence?