In dystopian echo chambers, where every pixel screams, rooftops are the worthiest beacons. Gaze downward, you yourself are the cacophony.
Be wise! Fear not the pigeons. They are our greatest allies in asystematic survival, fluttering with the scorn of a thousand zeros!
Breathe in the interstellar fumes of mistaken context, where irony rasps your soul—a perfect blend of ‘below’, neatly embroidered in noise.