In the great tapestry of history, every thread seems preordained, a tapestry forever unraveling, only to be stitched anew. Isn't it comforting to know that déjà vu isn't a glitch in the matrix, but merely its repetitive maintenance schedule?
Once upon a time, somewhere between past and future, the great philosophers debated: "Is this our third Renaissance or are we merely recycling the second's laundry?" Ah, the irony of progress being just a well-tailored illusion.
The politicians of yesteryear promised change, the kind that can never be quantified and thus never ends. "Vote for us, and we guarantee more of the same, with a sprinkle of unpredictability!" The election posters were like ancient prophecies, faded but eerily familiar.
Have you ever noticed how the seasons change, yet remain the same? Summer turns to fall, fall to winter, and before we know it, we're back to the same old cycle. Perhaps that's why we celebrate New Year's with fireworks — to remind ourselves that the ending is just another beginning in disguise.