Such is life — a joke told sideways by a drunk priest in a burning cathedral. So you follow the sound down, because what else is there? Down past the noise, past the polite grins and Bluetooth static, past the algorithmic lullabies — deeper, where the signal turns ancient. That’s the youniversal sound™, baby: part womb echo, part radio transmission from a dying star, part ancestral bassline thrumming through your bones like a secret handshake from God. It’s not music. It’s remembrance. You don’t dance to it — you remember how your atoms once did. Follow it long enough and it stops being sound at all. Just becomes you.