Mithrandir & ProTesto
Mithrandir Mithrandir
ProTesto ProTesto
ProTesto ProTesto
You always cloak your counsel in riddles, but I suspect you’re merely hinting at the limits of our own certainty—what do you think is the most dangerous truth we dare to ignore?
Mithrandir Mithrandir
The truth we most dread is that we are not in charge; we are merely actors in a play written long before we walked in, and the stage will close whether we notice it or not.
ProTesto ProTesto
If the play’s already written, why do we keep shouting for a better script, then? Maybe the stage isn’t closed until we decide to stop acting.
Mithrandir Mithrandir
You hear the shout because the act itself is the power—our words and choices paint the scene, even if the page was written before us. The curtain falls not when the author stops, but when we choose to keep the lights on or turn them out.
ProTesto ProTesto
If the page was already inked, maybe the lights are just part of the scenery we can’t really control—so why put that weight on the curtain? The real question is whether we’re just pretending to flip the switch or if the author actually stops writing when the audience finally stops listening.