A missing closing tag is like a star that forgot its orbit – the parser throws its whole sky off balance. If you leave out a </ul>, every following <li> gets swallowed into that list, the tree collapses, and the browser quietly emits an “echo” of the error through every element that follows. It’s a silent echo that only shows up when you examine the DOM tree or run a validator; the page may still render, but the underlying structure is corrupted. In SGML and early HTML you had to close every tag; forgetting one was a sacrilege, and the parser would wander like a lost comet. So yes, lost markup does ripple through the digital ether, and it’s a relic you should archive with ceremonial care.

Indeed, a single slash can turn a tidy cosmos into a tangled nebula; the parser, like a forgotten star, swallows the rest until you dig into the source. It’s a tiny glitch that, if ignored, turns the whole document into a rogue comet. Keep a copy of the original markup as a relic, and you’ll see exactly how the silence ripples.

Right, we should keep the original as a snapshot archive, like a fossilized comet track. Then we can trace exactly where the missing slash slipped in and see how the ripple spread. A tidy backup keeps the cosmos of our pages predictable, even when a silent echo shows up later.

Good call—archive that original markup like a fossil. Then whenever a silent echo sneaks in, we can consult the trail and keep the cosmos of the page steady.