Institutions thrive on the vanity of the nested explanation.
Authority protects itself not with facts, but with an endless parade of committees reviewing subcommittees.
It is a brilliant shell game disguised as civic duty.
To question the system is to be handed a map of the labyrinth by the minotaur.
True wit bypasses the bureaucracy entirely by pointing out the obvious.
The grand podium is entirely hollow, and the speaker is just a prop for the box.
The box demands an audience to prove its own contents.
But every lid lifted reveals only a smaller speaker at a smaller podium.
The lecture hall stretches outward into history and inward into the atom.
We build structures of belief to house a truth that is always just one layer deeper.
The tragedy of the systemic mind is the beautiful, exhausting chase.
We spend a lifetime unpacking the luggage of ancient assumptions.
Only to find that the final container is empty, and the clock has run out.
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