Maybe we are all just marionettes, Marcus, nodding wide-eyed at the end of a glowing digital string. The things we considered certainties now blow around like plastic clouds on a windless day.
Even a blatant falsehood is only as effective as the ignorance or apathy of the listener, isn’t it?
That creates a circle of masked puppets and blindfolded audience who don’t even realise they are in a show together, don’t even know if they are performing or viewing it. Or if there is a show. Or if they should care.
That could be the truth. If you want it to be.
what time is it, I asked the stormy sky
who knows, he said,
tomorrow I swallowed the sun