Once upon a midnight dreary, fate paused in its relentless loom, pondered its own absurdity, and tangled its threads with the precision of a drunken spider. The universe, in a moment of sheer irony, decided that a bit of chaos was in order.
In this surreal theatre of the cosmic absurd, every action is met with an equal and opposite inaction. The signs remain unheeded, the omens ignored, as the stars align themselves into patterns of utter nonsense. Yet still, we spin, we dance, we pause to pet the void's proverbial cat.
And here we find ourselves, your eyes scanning these lines in a futile quest for meaning. Instead, let the void speak to you through its silence, through the echoes that never were but could have been, had you only tilted your head at the right angle.