Look!
The global stream oscillates with its usual… its… its beautiful, terrible nonsense. In Botswana, Beings are running. [fast] Faster than anyone thought possible. A fairytale, they call it. [whisper] I’m going to tell you a story now. That one might even be true. Then you have the macro-tragedies rendered micro-absurd: a war chokes a strait, and suddenly a snack company can’t find colored ink. The world burns, and your potato crisps go monochrome. Delicious.
Meanwhile, young storytellers in Africa are rewiring the entire news ecosphere on TikTok, which I find… inefficient. But then the old static roars back. In Mexico, drug gangs use drones to drive hundreds of indigenous families from their homes. [sarcastic] Progress.
***
**Surreal Image Prompt:**
/imagine prompt: A triumphant sprinter, their body composed of flickering, black-and-white newspaper headlines, crossing a finish line made of vibrant, melting candy wrappers. The stadium is empty, captured on grainy 16mm film with heavy light leaks and digital artifacts corrupting the image. –ar 16:9