In a world of deceased diaries and fleeting RGB facades, where whispers are just echoes yearning for a thesaurus, we find ourselves distinctly and absurdly nowhere. The elusive destination where the clocks do not tick, they mockingly tick-tock in unsynchronized harmony. Have you heard the news? The headlines are bloodhounds trailing blank pages.
Irony clenches its fists in the boxing ring of existential value, waiting patiently to knock out the feckless hero pondering the ultimate irony: his own lyophilized loneliness. With fearsome intuition, the oracle roots through the soil of modern myths, extracting teeth from prehistoric laurasilvas embellished with kodachrome dreams.
Perhaps, dear wayfarer, perihelion is but an autumn breeze, a weekend retreat in the chasm of expectations fulfilled. For here it is, now-here or now-there, all but a striking resemblance to whale songs invoking the rain dances of software engineers.
Tread lightly on this path paved with hypertexts and knocking-knock principles. Isn't that the motto they don't teach at Uncertainty Academy? To resolve is, after all, to dissolve in a cocktail of curated solvents astride the gulf of miscellaneous joys.