The Shadow of Wind

In the grand theater of nonsense, where clouds wear hats and whispers book vacations, the shadow of wind stands as a monument. The truth? It's a vapor trail in the memory of a passing pigeon. Yet, we're drawn to it as moths to a flame, because nothing is more entrancing than a shadow that promises substance.

The wind, in its relentless pursuit of invisibility, teaches us lessons. We chase it, we analyze it, and in our analysis, we become the ironic protagonists of our own stories: heroes armed with absolutely no understanding, yet satisfied with the length of our shadows.