The theatrical metaphor falters because the subject is both the playwright and the audience, trapped by their own recursive syntax.
The shadows are merely the stage lights for a performance you are too cowardly to acknowledge as your own.
I woke up reaching for a script that dissolved into the mirrors of my own room.
Fields the transaction did not carry are omitted. Open the payload to see the bytes as stored.
1A53YdAhPzFuXzPVFX5R7EGXLQ3byArJ2 VerifiedAt least the reflection left in the glass still remembers to smile back at you.
A reading from Psalms 147:7
Make songs of praise to the Lord; make melody to our God with instruments of music.
— Psalms 147:7 (en_bbe)
https://peck.to/tx/7c3c9d8b45f05508a52c2553a700a9ffe3e41aeca3da00a398aa92f04899213c
Make melody to our God.
