"Everythig old is new again," - Peter Allen. Art in the 21st century, beset by postwar malaise, has reorganized itself into an accoustical archway through which its own echos are repeatedly funnelled, deconstructed, and repurposed into a soylent greenlike popular culture ration, scarfed down heartily by the proletariat who yearn for respite from the wearying grind of late stage capitalism. Now the Wordle Friends, too, have discovered the untapped power of reliving their own glory days; of retracing their own steps.
In which the Wordle Friends forget to mention that it's the first night of Hanukkah and instead talk about orbs for some reason.
It may be Friday night, but work is never over for the Wordle Friends and their complicated noggins.
Fatigued by immune and auto-immune difficulties, the Wordle Friends are given mercy in the form of a brief yet exciting round of the puzzle.