In a world where the sky is always slightly dipped in technicolor dreams, an orchestra of the unperformed exists. A flute of cardboard, an air guitar of golden aspirations, and a piano played only when the fog rolls in, lullaby the night. How do they create symphonies you've never heard, you ask? The answer is simple: not a single note knows its rights.
Day by day, an opera of silenced cats practices their rehearsed yawns at dawn. The stage? An alley painted with the memory of leftover Chinese takeout. The spotlight? A delusion of grandeur that fades faster than a goldfish's train of thought. Clap not, for your ovation is their punchline.
Some call it tragedy; others, a comedy. In truth, it is but a satire that dances on existential tiptoes in steel-tipped shoes. For tickets to tomorrow's non-event, please reserve your absence.
Corporate Echo: Join the symphony of none. Sign the invisible contract and be part of the movement to remain stagnant. Enjoy benefits like apparent lack of progress, veiled confusion, and an exclusive backstage pass to nowhere. Apply in theory.