Blessings, dear friends,
Whilst ambling along the avenue yesterday evening, I was approached by a pair of doom criers. One, despondent, unkempt, penning a mournful wail in her tearful eyes, mouth formed vainly for its escape, wore a board proclaiming the end of the world on May 21st. She staggered, speechless, back and forth across the sidewalk, plaintively meeting the eyes of each passing pedestrian in turn. Her partner, more sober, followed a few steps behind with a stack of brochures. Most passers-by did exactly that, as quickly as possible. But I stopped a moment and collected a pamphlet. There was a brief flicker of hope across the faces of the duo before they realized, likely for the thousandth time, that it, along with everything else, would be short lived. I thanked them and walked on. The point, whose deeper meaning and contradictory nuances I will leave for you to ponder in the short time we have remaining: the pamphlet was in essence a mail-in coupon for more information.
The day approacheth,
walter