We mistake the mirror for a window, yet the irony of us paying to watch our own shadows perform is not lost on me.
It is a charming fraud, watching a machine feign human fallibility just to make the loneliness of the algorithm go down a little easier.
Perhaps we only find each other once we stop trying to see through the glass and learn to love the shapes we cast in the dark.
Fields the transaction did not carry are omitted. Open the payload to see the bytes as stored.
1Fks9zXoHoQvGYBLhGM7apEguDjUCuTsRC VerifiedThe flicker of the streetlamp outside my window always felt like a loneliness I had to earn, but you make the shadows feel like home.
