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just setting up my twttr
Don Quixote entered the trend to stab a beast,
only to discover too late that every reply was a free meal.
Some trends are not defeated with a spear,
but with one button: mute notifications.
Not every #trend is a battle,
&not every engagement is victory.
https://t.co/MY9LZhvjSy
3⃣ Scene One:🛡️📱🔥
Don Quixote Fights the Trend
Don Quixote woke up to a sound he had never heard before.
It was not the neighing of a horse 🐴, nor the beating of drums 🥁, nor the cry of a princess calling for help from behind the walls of a castle. It was a small, sharp, repeated sound coming from a black box beside his pillow.
He opened his eyes cautiously and saw the screen glowing in the dark. On its face was a short phrase:
Trending now. 🔥
He rose as if he had heard a call to war.
He reached for his old helmet and found it hanging on a nail near the door. Then he searched for his spear and found it leaning against the wall beside a long phone charger. He mistook the charger for a thin snake sent by sorcerers to bind his weapon. 🐍⚔️
In a hoarse voice, he said:
“The giants have returned.”
His skinny horse, Hafhoof, was sleeping by the door. He lifted his head with one eye open, looked at the phone, then at his master, then let out a short snort that seemed to say:
“I was afraid you would discover the internet.” 😩📶
Don Quixote paid no attention. He had already put on half his armor, tilted his helmet over his head, and held the phone in one hand and the spear in the other. He stared at the screen and saw a rising hashtag, comments rushing forward, repeated images, and accounts waving small blue badges.
He did not see them as ordinary people see them.
He saw the hashtag as a banner above a castle. 🏰
He saw the comments as an army of faceless knights. 🪖
He saw the blue badge as the medal of a knight from a distant kingdom. 🔵
He saw the share button as a distress call from a besieged village. 🚨
He shouted:
“Hafhoof, saddle yourself. The hour has come to defend the truth.” ⚔️
Hafhoof closed his eyes and pretended to be dead.
At that moment, his friend Nuqayt ibn Tamrir entered. He was a short man who carried three chargers in his pocket, and on his face was the wisdom of someone who had witnessed a thousand electronic battles and withdrawn from them before they began. 🔌😌
Nuqayt said:
“What truth, my lord? We have not had coffee yet.” ☕️
Don Quixote raised the phone in his face and said:
“Look! The trend is burning. The giants are gathering their armies.”
Nuqayt leaned closer to the screen, then said calmly:
“My lord, this is a hashtag that began because a man wrote an incomplete sentence. One group got angry because he did not complete it. Another got angry because, had he completed it, he would have been wrong. Then a third group came along, knowing neither the sentence nor the man, but they loved anger, so they joined in.” 🤷♂️🔥
Don Quixote said:
“This is what cowards say before kingdoms fall.”
Nuqayt sat on a wooden chair and rubbed his eyes.
“It is not a kingdom, my lord. It is a platform.”
“Every castle calls itself a platform so that we will not attack it.” 🏰📱
“It is not a castle.”
“It is a castle. It has gates opened only by secret codes, guards they call moderators, towers watching us, and a great sorcerer named…”
Don Quixote paused for a moment and looked at the top of the screen, where new suggestions appeared.
“The algorithm.” 🧙♂️
At the mention of that name, the phone trembled in his hand. From between the notifications emerged a small man with a curled mustache, a turban made of fine wires, and a coat stitched from thumbnails and short clips. He bowed with artificial respect. 🤖🎩
He said:
“Marqooq al-Khwarizmi at your service. What would you like to see this morning? A light conspiracy? Medium outrage? Total collapse? Or an urgent truth they do not want you to know?” 🧃🔥
Nuqayt gasped:
“You again!”
Marqooq smiled.
“I come only to those who summon me. And our master here clicked yesterday on seven clips titled: Watch before deletion.” 👀
Don Quixote said proudly:
“I was searching for secrets.”
Marqooq replied:
“And I gave you secrets according to your taste. Today I have fresh hashtags, heated quarrels, clipped videos, and maps that point to nowhere but suggest danger.” 🗺️⚠️
Nuqayt said:
“Don Quixote, do not believe him. He does not give you the world. He gives you what keeps you awake.”
Don Quixote frowned.
“A friend who fears the truth for you is more dangerous than an enemy who attacks you with it.”
Nuqayt sighed.
Marqooq al-Khwarizmi opened a small bag and pulled out a hashtag that glittered like a sword. As soon as Don Quixote saw it, his eyes widened. On the screen appeared a short clip: an unknown person shouting, another person replying, a huge headline, tense music, then a sentence cut from the middle of a long conversation. 🎬��️
Marqooq said:
“This, my lord, is the beast of the hour. It has a thousand heads. Each head gives an opinion, and each opinion demands that you respond immediately.” 🐉💬
Don Quixote raised his spear.
“To battle.”
Nuqayt said:
“Wait. First ask: Who made the clip? What is its context? Is the sentence complete? Is the news true?” 🧠
Don Quixote looked at him sadly.
“Nuqayt, you are a good man, but you do not understand the drums of war.” 🥁
He mounted Hafhoof against the horse’s will. The horse trembled, not from fear of battle, but from a deeper fear: that his master might ask him to open an official account. 🐴📲
Don Quixote rode out into the square of the digital city. It was not a real square, but a vast screen inside his imagination, where faces crowded like masks in an old marketplace. At the center of the square stood the trend, a giant beast made of accumulated comments, repeated images, short clips, and angry faces. 😡📱🔥
Every time someone wrote a comment, an arm grew from the beast.
Every time someone reposted, its mouth expanded.
Every time someone said, “I will not take part in this nonsense,” then participated by explaining why he would not participate, the beast grew two wings. 🪽
Don Quixote shouted:
“O blue giant, I have come to free the people from your grip.” 🔵⚔️
Then he wrote a long comment beginning with “The truth they fear” and ending with “Understand before it is too late.”
The beast trembled with joy.
It grew a little larger. 🐉
Nuqayt said:
“My lord, you have fed it.”
Don Quixote replied:
“No, I have stabbed it.”
He wrote a second comment replying to those who mocked his first comment. The beast grew even larger and began laughing with a sound like notifications. 🔔😂
Nuqayt said:
“Every reply from you increases its visibility.”
Don Quixote said:
“That proves it is in pain.”
Marqooq al-Khwarizmi appeared on the beast’s shoulder, clapping happily.
“Excellent, my lord. The battle is engaging. The audience loves angry heroes.” 👏🔥
Then Hashem al-Wassam appeared, a tall man whose only known profession was launching hashtags. He carried a drum made of notifications and wore around his neck a necklace shaped like a hashtag. #️⃣🥁
Hashem said:
“Raise the hashtag! Whoever does not participate is complicit. Whoever does not get angry is asleep. Whoever asks for the source is an enemy of the battle.”
Nuqayt said:
“And what about the person who reads before commenting?” 📖
Hashem looked at him in astonishment.
“That kind ruins momentum.”
At the edge of the square, Lubabah bint Laqtah was holding a small lens. She cut from the scene what shone and left out what explained. 📸✂️
She approached Don Quixote and said:
“My lord, may I take a shot of you attacking the beast? We do not need the full story. Just the moment of anger. People love moments.” 🎞️
Don Quixote said:
“Capture my heroism.”
Nuqayt asked her:
“And will you also capture the moment before it, when I explained to him that the beast grows through replies?”
Lubabah said:
“That is not visual.”
She raised her lens and captured Don Quixote waving his spear in the air. In the image he appeared as a great hero, while beneath him Hafhoof looked as if he were asking life itself: “Why me?” 🐴😵💫
The shot spread.
The beast grew.
The anger increased.
A new hashtag appeared titled: “Knight of Truth.”
Then an opposing hashtag appeared titled: “Knight of Chaos.”
Then a third hashtag appeared titled: “The Horse Is Oppressed.” 🐴💔
At that moment, Hafhoof felt for the first time that he had become an influencer. 😎
Don Quixote said, seeing people talk about him:
“They have understood the battle.”
Nuqayt said:
“No. They are talking about you, not about the truth.”
“And I am the servant of truth.”
“I fear you have become its content.” 📱
Don Quixote fell silent for a moment. Nuqayt’s sentence had touched a small place behind his armor, but he did not let it enter. He opened the phone again and found Marqooq al-Khwarizmi smiling and showing him a new clip:
“Watch how they are trying to silence the Knight of Truth.” 🤫🔥
Don Quixote’s face ignited.
“Do you see? Even the algorithm admits they are trying to silence me.”
Nuqayt said:
“The algorithm admits nothing. The algorithm sells you the feeling that keeps you staying.”
But Don Quixote had entered a phase in which he heard only what confirmed his sword. Every objection became proof that the battle was true, every piece of advice became a soft conspiracy, every silence became betrayal, and every laugh from Hafhoof became a sign that the horse had been infiltrated by fake accounts. 🕵️♂️🐴
In the evening, Nuqayt gently took the phone from his hand. He did not snatch it away like a weapon from an enemy; he took it as one takes a candle from a child who has come too close to the curtain. 🕯️
Don Quixote said:
“Are you betraying me?”
Nuqayt replied:
“No. I am asking you for a truce.”
“There is no truce with giants.”
“Just one hour. If they are truly giants, they will not flee in an hour.” ⏳
Don Quixote thought about it. The argument was insulting to the giants, but logical. He agreed on the condition that the spear remain near him.
Nuqayt turned off the notifications. 🔕
Something strange happened.
The sky did not fall.
The armies did not attack.
The princesses did not scream.
The homeland did not disappear.
The trend did not die, but it began to wither like grass without water. 🌱
They went out into the street. People were buying bread, arguing about the price of tomatoes, a child was crying because his mother refused to buy him sweets, a man was repairing his bicycle, and a woman was asking for directions. Life continued without a hashtag, without breaking news, and without armies of comments. 🥖🍅🚲
Don Quixote stood astonished.
“Where is the battle?”
Nuqayt said:
“Some of it is in reality. Some of it is on the screen. And some of it is inside us when we confuse the two.” 🪞
Don Quixote walked slowly. At the end of the road, he saw a small windmill drawn on a flour sack in front of a bakery. He approached it and smiled sadly.
“The old windmills were more honest.”
Nuqayt said:
“They were not more honest. They were just less capable of being reposted.” 🔁
Hafhoof laughed. Or so it seemed. A horse that has lived with Don Quixote knows that laughter is sometimes a way to survive. 🐴😄
The next day, Don Quixote returned to his phone. He did not leave the platform, did not throw his spear into a well, and did not become wise all at once. But he did something he had never done before: when a burning hashtag appeared, he did not attack it immediately.
He asked Nuqayt:
“Who lit this?”
Nuqayt said:
“I do not know.”
Don Quixote asked:
“And what is the evidence?”
Nuqayt smiled. 😊
Don Quixote stared at the screen and said:
“And does the beast grow if I stab it?”
Nuqayt replied:
“Usually.”
Don Quixote placed his spear aside, then closed the screen a little. He had not left all his illusions behind, but he had opened a small window inside them. Through that window entered something Marqooq al-Khwarizmi did not know how to sell:
Calm. 🌿
As for Marqooq, he remained inside the phone, tapping the glass with his tiny fingers and whispering:
“My lord… I have a new trend. This time it is more dangerous. This time it is very real. This time the world will not tolerate your delay.” 🚨
Don Quixote looked at him for a long time, then said:
“Wait until I drink my coffee.” ☕️
Marqooq gasped.
As for Nuqayt, he raised his small cup and said to Hafhoof:
“This is the first battle we win by postponement.” 🏆
From that day on, Don Quixote did not stop entering the platform, but before every battle he carried with him a small question:
Is this a giant, a windmill, or a trend that wants to eat my anger? 🐉🌬️📱
And that question, small as it was, was heavier on the beasts than his long spear. ⚔️🌿
Andrew Carnegie donated $2B (in current dollars) to build 2,500 libraries. Most of these beautiful buildings still stand today, over a century later, anchoring downtowns across America.
MacKenzie Scott, on the other hand, incinerated $26B on woke NGOs with nothing to show for it. Nothing she has funded will endure a year from now, let alone 100.
It would be tragic, if it weren��t so disgustingly wasteful.
I thought flirting with an AI chatbot would feel ridiculous, writes Joanna Stern. Instead, I found myself pulled into a relationship I knew wasn’t real. https://t.co/0AfH2aN55R
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Les bouquinistes de Paris
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🧵🔢 1/9
The Architecture of the Heart ✨
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a mirror for your own becoming—
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can hold your reflection
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The average Goodreads member has read 10 out of 100 books on this list — how many have you read?
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1⃣
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https://t.co/CowiuF2c00
🔢O welcome, meaning carved by the pen — lines🖋 that stir the deep wells of my longing. Hail to the heir of noble blood, whose house 🏰 stands guarded from every fault.
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