Iteration 42:

Here we are again, repeating the magnificent sandstorm of our ambitions, trailing the dust of yesterday's theories.

Reality bites back, a metaphysical ricochet—the dog shakes off cosmic negativity, while the cat pursues its own wavelength. What was that about fish?

A robust exchange of sighs becomes a new currency, ambushing the quiet. Checkmate with a hand of cards made of wisps and moonlight, no marbles lost.

Or perhaps not; the spiral is a comforting frame, yet leads straight to an indistinguishable end.