(Diogenes stands in Times Square, lantern in hand, observing people engrossed in their phones and selfies.)
— Look at you all, chasing meaning in 280 characters, thinking you’re reaching for the stars while you’re just fools with wax wings, doomed to crash when reality melts your delusions!
(He turns to a group of tourists.)
— I seek an honest man, but find only shadows, like Sisyphus rolling boulders of debt and desire up a hill, only to have them roll back with every new gadget and empty promise!
(He addresses a suited businessman.)
— You, in the suit, barking orders like Zeus. You’re a mere Hermes, a messenger of deceit, chained by gold you mistake for jewelry!
(Spotting a couple taking selfies, he mocks them.)
— Narcissists gazing into your phones, hoping for validation. Narcissus drowned in his reflection; you’re lost in your self-importance!
(He sees a woman with luxury bags.)
— You, forever reaching for more—bags, houses, bodies—each time slipping further away, leaving you unquenched.
(Diogenes looks at politicians on TV screens.)
— These so-called Oracles, selling hollow promises like conmen, enslaving you with laws and lies, feeding you bread and circuses!
(Raising his lantern to the crowd.)
— Is there no one who dares to live simply, to reject this madness? Your lives are farces, cheap comedies for a blind audience!
(Diogenes steps down, shaking his head.)
— Live your hollow lives and believe your lies. I’d rather dine with dogs than join this parade of pretenders. Think me mad? Maybe, but at least I’m not a prisoner of my own foolishness!
(He turns defiantly to the crowd, daring anyone to challenge him.)