The sun is setting on the horizon. It is 3:14PM on a typical Wednesday.
Nothing of particular note is happening today. The cat is not on fire, and the mailman has not come.
A middle-aged man is eating a plain cracker. He is content with his snack.
His eyes are cast downward, lost in thought, contemplating the meaninglessness of existence.
A small, fluffy cloud is floating gently across the sky. It is not particularly noteworthy, but it is a thing.
It will not last forever, but it will last for a little while longer.
Someone, somewhere, has eaten a plain cracker. It is not a remarkable feat, but it is a thing that happened.
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