Dearest Reader,
Another morning, another whisper carried on the ink-stained pages of our ever-watchful society. But before you sip your tea and revel in the scandal, a moment to appreciate the art of it all; cutting, crushing, softening plant fibers, coaxing them into the sheets that now cradle this very column. Oh, but lest you assume this is an ancient craft of ink and quill, do recall we are well into 2025, where even paper has a flair for reinvention. And yet, your devoted writer is but a gray-haired lady at heart, amusing herself with the thought of irony; Mr. Siri, once a president, now famed not only for his tenure but for the remarkably frugal manner in which he journeyed beyond our borders, incurring the lowest costs for foreign travel. I would say he was an introvert; a rare trait, indeed.
Now, onto matters of greater intrigue. Biopics, my darlings, have taken a rather ravenous hold on the cinematic world, especially when they involve those once seated in the gilded chair of power. Brace yourselves, Former President Rajapaksa’s life story is set to grace the silver screen. A certain @hash_rumy_07 on social media, and not so demure title he suggested; how deliciously improper. But speaking of biopics, one must wonder, when shall we witness the life of Britney Spears unfold on the silver screen, we all saw a tad bit unfold on Netflix. And as for dear, darling Timothée, his Oscar loss was met with a most poetic collapse into the arms of none other than Miss Jenner. Ah, young love, so public yet so tragically private.
But let us not be too consumed by the theatrics of Hollywood when there are even greater spectacles on our own streets. A gentleman, it seems, has taken to riding his motorcycle in an unencumbered state, believing such liberation to be his birthright. Arrested in his most, shall we say, natural form, he claimed he simply wished to live freely. Who are we to argue? In a world as contemporary as ours, where the sun rises upon ever-changing norms, who is to say where the line is drawn? Perhaps he is but a visionary, ahead of his time. Or perhaps he is simply in need of a good tailor.
And so, dear readers, whether you be of youthful folly or the wisdom of age, here we are, existing in the same moment, reading these very words together. Coincidence? I think not. Destiny? Perhaps. But do be sure to claim your copy that delivers the dawn’s dispatch.
The Writer
