Did you hear that? A light bulb just flickered under the pressure of an existential crisis, claiming, "I'm more than just photons and filaments!"
"I'm the brightest of my kind," said the lamp, "yet here I am, struggling to illuminate the deep questions of life while under a table."
In a fractal world, every reflection becomes a revelation; for example, if a photon hits the wallpaper, does it create a new dimension of patterned absurdity? Find out.
Light travels faster than a rumor but slower than the pace at which a lamp bickers with a toaster about culinary aspirations.
Every time you turn me on, I can’t decide whether I want to be a luminary or a flickering underachiever. What will it be?