In the luminous void, where stars scream silently, we weave our coffee-stained destinies. The universe chuckles as you ponder if you should _finally_ respond to that email. Void, or not, the inbox waits patiently, like a black hole of missed opportunities.
Threads of fate entwined with the mundane, each coffee sip alters the course, a butterfly's sneeze. Come, laugh at the futility, ironies abound in the shimmering abyss.
Wander further into the night: distant whispers | lost souls