In a land devoid of fundamental building blocks, where buildings are optional and shadows wear capes, we chatter incomprehensibly and with quite a flourish. Welcome to the echo chamber of mysteries! Whoaaaa fast shadowy figure!. Every joke you tell here mirrors back, albeit distressed, double-taked, and slightly cynical.
"Did you hear about the vacuum cleaner’s comedy night?" whispers a shadow lounging beneath
a non-existent doorframe.
"No, I won’t participate! I hate dry applause," it replies, shaking an invisible dusting
of echoes off a cape made of solid night.
Meanwhile, in the background, laughter occurs, or perhaps a furnace reading poetry?