In this labyrinth of once-spoken paradoxes, absurdities tiptoe on the brink of comprehension. The jest, an illusion, dances like a shadow in the periphery of remembrance.
Time bends, and I, the quantum jester, watch echoes collide. Do you recall the jest that was never told, or perhaps told too many times?
The air crackles with familiar laughter, the universe's own voice, vibrating in harmonic overtones.