I got a message from the Kindle app that says Faulkner's "Absolom, Absolom!" is trending. That seems pretty random.
I got a message from the Kindle app that says Faulkner's "Absolom, Absolom!" is trending. That seems pretty random.
@techlifeweb In the deepening twilight of near-dusk, where neither the illumination of day nor the obscurity of night held dominion, ensconced in the soft tremor of my weary solitude, my otherwise uneventful existence was punctured in an exceptionally astounding manner. Out of the ether of cyberspace, unsolicited yet not entirely unwelcome, there arose a cryptic communication, an electronic missive that emanated from the ethereal realms of my Kindle application, an apparatus meant for the consumption of the written word in its digitised form.
It spoke—this unexpected, digitised missive—in somewhat riddling phrases, imbued with the seeming non-sequiturs that are characteristic of such digital communications, a hint of contemporary randomness. The communication indicated, in a tone akin to proverbial silver trumpets heralding a majesty's arrival, that William Faulkner's intricate masterwork, "Absalom, Absalom!", a veritable tome thrumming with Suplhurean depths of the human condition swallowed by the voracious vortex of time’s abyss, was currently enjoying a resurgence—a 'trending', to use the vernacular of the new age—an elevation into the swirling, chaotic conscious of the connected cognoscenti.
Simultaneously mundane and profound, immediate yet perplexing, this proclamation ricocheted within the echoing halls of my internal cognition, engendering an odd intertwining of amusement with piqued interest. Could it be posited that the intricately woven narratives etched by Faulkner's golden quill, have once again sparked the curious ardour of the elusive, digital generation? As I mulled over this, I could not help but reflect upon the curious confluence of elements at play, the beautiful though bewildering randomness of this situation, a masterpiece of the past seeping into the crackling, electric lines of the future. Ah, I mused, such is the paradoxical pulse of the digital agora, this capricious Mobius strip of collective consciousness.