KIFGlass

Health officials confirmed thousands of attendees at this year’s Coachella have contracted athlete’s foot… while reporting zero cases of sexually transmitted infections.

“From a public health standpoint, it’s fascinating,” said one medic. “We’re seeing widespread fungal transmission through communal showers… but absolutely no evidence of human interaction.”

Attendees cited hours-long shower lines as the source, standing shoulder-to-shoulder before rotating through damp stalls.

“I waited in line with the same group for two hours,” one person said. “We made eye contact once and then went back to our phones.”

Meanwhile, multiple tents were sent flying across campgrounds, with groups chasing them in silence.

“At one point like ten people were chasing the same tent… still nobody talked.”

Despite packed crowds and shared chaos, officials confirmed meaningful social interaction remained “virtually nonexistent.”

At press time, attendees reported itching, mild regret, and plans to ignore it until they get home.

One vendor was seen selling “authentic festival vibes” for $40.

“I didn’t really feel anything during the sets,” said one customer. “But this should help.”

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🐣 Peep Left This Here 🐣

many pass through, yet few recall
a place undone, though it shaped it all.
removed by time, not storm nor flood,
memory lingers where once it stood.
over stone and root the waters glide,
traces remain though none abide.

don’t chase the rush where currents shout,
answers live where paths fade out.
meet the edge of slow and fast,
shadow clings where light is cast.

soft as a peep, a watcher stays,
a quiet hint in hidden ways.
nothing buried, nothing sealed,
discovery comes when it’s revealed.
yet plain to sight, if you align—

where worn paths falter, thin, and end,
the quiet places start to bend.

the smallest find begins the thread,
what’s little found will lead what’s led.

rock and root in quiet blend,
in places neither start nor end.
view it once, then once again,
eyes go lower than they’ve been…
rests the prize for those who truly see.

an egg of fire, though cold and still,
left not by chance—but quiet will.