Another day, another Wordle. We’re quickly approaching the end of January already, folks, and before you know it we’ll be staring down the barrel of another Christmas—if we should be so lucky as to survive another year on this spinning orb of rock and water.
Some say the world will end in fire, some say ice. I hope it ends all at once, crashed into by some vast meteor hurtling through space, so massive and travelling at such ungodly speed that we don’t see it coming and it snuffs us all out in the blink of an eye. One minute, the hustle and bustle of civilization. The next, empty space. Our molecules scattered to the stars.
From stars we were born and unto stars we shall return. Space-dust time-travelers hurtling through the void.
And on our merry way, perhaps we stop and do a Wordle .