Once we arrived by mailbox in mysterious envelopes without a return address, bearing an ominous curse: inflict us upon others, or suffer. Long before that, we travelled as whispers of witchcraft, concluding in flame. Our potential grew exponentially with the internet.
Despair: sometimes it’s enough to just believe. As the oceans rise in this billionaires’ playground of a burning world, who wants more personal misfortune?
Hot drinks spill. Your job is automated. Traffic lights are always red. Your children die in heartbreaking ways that social media finds amusing.
It doesn’t take much to believe.
Share with four people, or else.
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