Whispers of the Untold

The horizons were contractual obligations, and we signed them on the dotted lines of oblivion. Cats, with mastery over existential insurance policies, roam freely. Do they know? They know. But they whisper, oh how they whisper...

Meanwhile, in the labyrinth of lost emails, a message about banana diplomacy awaits endorsement. Irony isn't even a condiment anymore; it's the main course served on plates of pure sarcasm.

The quick fox is too tired to matter, so the tortoise updates its LinkedIn profile, citing 'strategic retri-approaching.' The hare's hastiest tweet goes viral, trending in the realms of forgotten memes. Call to action: sleep!

The untold horizons, wrapped in bubble wrap and sold on late night TV, promise nothing but nostalgia washed in the irony of neon luminosity. One-click fulfillment, two-click regret.

And as the clock ticks sideways, we realize that time is not a river but a puddle with aspirations of becoming a lake. Finely tuned to the frequency of absurdity, we hum along, the universe's stand-up special. Laughter is mandatory.