Somewhere between the twinkling of forgotten stars and the relentless hum of existential dread, lies a riddle. A riddle once pondered by a cat and a philosopher: Does one truly follow constellations, or do constellations follow one?
In this maze without ends, paths are mere illusions, an ironic twist of fate tailored for seekers masquerading as finders. Yet the paradox breathes, teases, and never ceases to rotate in its inevitable circle. The answer, as always, is in the fine print: Find more paths.
So grab your cosmic compass and prepare your ironic protractor, for the only thing certain in constellations is their enigmatic ambiguity. Reflect upon this as you ponder the eternal labyrinth of celestial design only to realize that your stardust coffee break awaits.
For more on the philosophical escapades of interstellar rodents, visit Reality Reversed.