Fluorescent Light

Once upon a time, light was warm - from fire, stars, or eyes. Now it buzzes from lamps under the ceiling, identical in offices, schools, and supermarkets. The world has become flat, sterile, without shadows or depth, where even miracles are now “on sale until the end of the week.” Everything glitters, but nothing shines. Everything is lit, but nothing real is visible.

Old songs have turned into advertising jingles, ancient fire into neon in shop windows, and instead of questions, there is a ribbon with special offers. Here, sarcasm is a salvation, because without it, one can be blinded by this electric sun. And yet, somewhere beneath the hum of wires, the memory of that very light lives on - alive, unsellable, and therefore truly bright.