This morning, dozens of people patiently lined up in front of an empty space, convinced they would find something there. The article, witness to the scene and perfectly aware of its own nonsense, promises to remain serious for at least three sentences.
It was 9:14 a.m. when the first person stopped in front of a bare stretch of sidewalk—no door, no counter—just a determined air and an imaginary line that was lengthening in plain sight. “I heard about a very well-organized absence; it intrigued me,” says Ms. Probably, who arrived fourth, without ever shedding her remarkable calm. As the queue stretched, passersby asked “What’s this for?”, received a polite “We don’t know yet,” and took their place at the back. Apparently, indecision had found its logistics.
In the vicinity, clocks seemed to hesitate between two seconds, as if time itself were queuing. A handwritten sign eventually appeared, taped to the nothing: “Please wait, the idea is coming.” Between two relieved sighs, Mr. Gomme, who swears he organized nothing, nevertheless maintains: “I sweep the void every morning; when you take care of it, it draws a crowd.” The crowd nodded in a common murmur, irrefutable proof that the argument held up, even without any object to put in its arms.
At this stage, the article wishes to specify that it fully appreciates the abyss of absurdity on whose edge it is tap-dancing. “I know I read like a poorly adjusted mirror,” it concedes, “but I have sources: three sighs, a runaway semicolon, and an eyewitness silence.” The facts, though flexible, remain stubborn: the bigger the line grew, the more each person’s conviction solidified that there was, right there, something worth waiting for, precisely because no one could name it.
Around noon, a woman declared she had “almost understood” and left the line with a satisfied step, followed by a teenager who said he had “taken his share.” This newspaper, having nothing to distribute but paper, pledges to continue the investigation until the promised idea appears—or disappears. In the meantime, if you are holding this article in your hands, please queue behind the last sentence: it moves slowly, but it moves.
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