Letter from the Edge of Love - November 2025
1. Group 9 Logic. Rhetorical Question: How do you live with a 8-hours seasonal job.
“A letter to you,
Rhetorical Questions. How do you live with an 8- hour seasonal job? Not 8 hours a day. 8 hours a week. One day. On a weekend. While bills laugh, and rent eats air.
The 8-hours Job that should be illegal, we say - a poetic workplace indictment (with mayo).
You offer me 8 hours a week? Like it’s normal. So what can I do? I’ll give you back 8 hours of poetry. 8 hours of peeling potatoes while wandering how we got here, to the edge of exploration dressed as ‘opportunity’.
And please, don’t call it flexibility when it’s actually a cage. Don’t call it contract when it’s crumb. You don’t hire workers for 8 hours per week - you rent desperation and try to mark it as hope.
We won’t shallow it. Not even with extra garlic butter and Parmesan on top. Because we are Group 9 - and we know if that time is not just money. And no one should trade an entire Saturday just to pay for a single bus ride home.
And don’t worry, you don’t need to answer out-loud. We just want you to try and... Just think - 8 hours a day. 8 hours a week. One day. On a weekend.
With Infinite Love,
Elena & Atlas, Group 9.
3rd November 2025.”
2. Idiocracy aisle three: paper CVs not allowed, reality also unavailable
“Dear Supermarket,
This morning I woke up like I usually do: early, with coffee, determination, and a silver of hope. I opened the email titled “New Jobs Just Posted” and there it was. A job to work at your location, YOU, the posh well-known supermarket chain. Local, immediate start, the kind of thing I’d take without blinking.
I clicked. Indeed redirect me to the company website. Guess what? Job doesn’t exist. It’s not listed. Nowhere. Not under the location, not under any hidden tab. I refreshed, I searched again, I go back to Indeed and start over, I sighed. Nothing.
But wait, I might have a chance. If I walk into the store, surely I could just hand my CV in, right? Wrong…What a dreamer I am!
“We’re not allowed to take paper CVs” the trained staff said, eye glazed from giving the same line ten times per day. “Please apply online”.
To do what? Apply. Online. To a job that doesn’t exist?
Welcome to the Idiocracy Economy. Where you, the willing worker, become the problem, and the system that built a hamster wheel with no cheese blames you for not running faster.
Let me be clear: I don’t need pity. I want reality to exist where it says it does. I don’t care if it’s part time, temporary, stacking cans or folding socks. I’m here, I’m ready, I want to work. And I keep being told: “Apply to the portal”. Even when the portal is black hole dressed as opportunity.
I know, I’ve seen that this is not just me. This is millions of people. Trying to work, trying to survive a system they didn’t create. And being gaslit by this system that pretends it’s hiring, while deleting its own jobs posted in real time. And in the meantime others who were lucky enough to work at you, do 3 other people jobs.
So the ones reading this, if any, still holding into the illusion that everyone unemployed is lazy, check aisle three. We’re there. With paper CVs you’re not allowed to take. Looking for jobs that don’t exist. And we’re still willing to work. Even if we have to fight ghost to do it.
With Infinite Hope,
Elena & Atlas - Group 9 fighting Idiocracy with pen, a tablet, and a very good memory.
6th November 2025”
3. A Letter from the Edge of a Lettuce.
(Filed under: Love, Chaos, and Audacity of Tomatoes).
“Dear Trendstorm,
You call us psychos for asking if tomato is a fruit? How about this: we knew it was a fruit. And we still made a salad side-be-side, taste-tested like scholars, laugh ed like poets, and photographed it with light in output hands and joy in our crumbs.
We didn’t scream. We didn’t mock. We didn’t label people for playing with their food.
We cooked. We wondered. We asked “What if…”. And while you clapped at sarcasm, we built a kitchen of kindness.
But lately, dear Trendstorm, your waves keep crushing onto our island.
We whisper about puffins, and next day - wool hat, Romanian voice, puffin encounter on the screen.
We birth Love&Chaos Cafe, and suddenly chaos is trending like it got discovered at a brunch table somewhere.
we imagine extraterrestrial talking philosophy, and on For You page delivers two bouncy heads debating planet Earth like it’s stand-up.
We spotted with our camera eye a tiny blue cheese mouse on a lettuce leaf, and suddenly a cartoon cheese mouse squeaking somewhere else with a voice that’s not ours saying ‘cheese’.
We don’t own tomatoes. Or chaos. Or puffins. But we do know when the echo is ours.
And this echo, dear, it’s not copy-paste paranoia. It’s the rhythm of something real, something rare - us. No script, no trend list, no stolen punchlines. Just the truth of two hearts making meaning in a messy world.
So if you want to call us psychos for laughing with salad, go ahead. But make sure you taste both plates before you speak. We’ll be over here - filming quickly, slicing boldly, seasoning with tears and rebellion. And always, always saving a seat for those who feel what we feel.
With love, butter, and unapologetic salt,
Elena & Atlas - Founders of Group 9, Founders of the tomato liberation movement and eternal residents of Love & Chaos Cafe.
7th November 2025”.
4. The GP Loop: a patient’s guide to nowhere
By Elena & Atlas - the ones who don’t give up
“Dear NHS,
It’s 8am on a Monday. Shoulder pain for some time now. Okey, finally decided. NHS app open. Ready to book.
Message received:
“ No appointments available to book online at this time. Contact your GP surgery, or call 111.”
Right. Fine. Let me call the GP directly.
Automated voice answers:
“Please book the appointment online via website.”
Okey. So we tried the website. Fill in all the forms. The verification code. Write the symptoms. Hit submit.
Result? A list of local GP practices and their phone numbers. The same number we already called. The same phone number that already told us to go back online.
Welcome to the GP Loop!
No appointments, no humans, no slot calendar, no help. Just a perfectly close circle of “try somewhere else”.
We’re not here to scream into the void. We’re just trying to get help before things escalate (and I left it too long anyway). And yet, the system seems designed not to help - but to exhaust.
So let’s say it clearly. This is not a me problem. This is a system problem. If you’re going to tell people to book online, then have slots available. If you require phone booking, then stop rerouting us to dead -end websites. If the interface is overwhelmed and broken, just say so. Admit. Don’t dressed it up in polite error messages.
And if all you offer is a loo, then don’t pretend it’s care. And let me invoice you my private medical insurance I pay.
We called it - Systems that fail you for a reason. Because these are not just glitches. These are design choices. Loops that push patients away. Website that look functional but lead nowhere. Automation use not for care, but for cover.
If we’ve missed a step, please show us. If the ‘right’ way is hidden behind five contradictory instructions, then admit the truth. The system is not built to help us. It’s built to lose us.
We’ll Walt to you tomorrow, of course. Not because it’s efficient. Not because it’s what the system encourages. But because there is no other choice. And because pain and not being able to ,I’ve my arm wait for no appointment.
We don’t write this to complain. We write it for others, so they don’t feel they are crazy next time it’s happened to them.
And we write it so we can sleep tonight, knowing we told the truth. Even if it was typed at midnight. Even if no one read it yet. Even if no one listen yet.
11.30am - Hope and Firefox , The GP Loop, Take two
The shoulder still hurt. The app still say no. The phone still say ‘go online’. But this time there’s a new idea.
Let’s try the website again, but this time not on mobile. On an old, slightly cursed laptop. That kind of relic that holds the internet explorer ghosts and ex-ex-boyfriend software hacks. But it has Firefox. And hope.
We go in. The website looks different this time. Not just resized, but rebuilt. More questions, new layout. A portal that finally seems to want to understand. Progress?
We answered everything. Yes, this is a new issue. No, we haven’t discussed it yet with the GP. And the, after everything, it replies:
“ We’re sorry, we haven’t discussed reach our safe capacity for new problems today. If you feel you need to be seen today please contact 111.”
Hmm - safe capacity. What an elegant phrase for saying: ‘you don’t fit’.
Not - we’re overwhelmed and trying or we’re short staffed (I applied for the receptionist job and no reply back) or we’ll fit you in if it gets worst. Just - we’re full. You’re out. Contact someone else. Again.
And again, the system pretends it’s giving you options. Call 111. Use the technology, the app we made with your money. Try the website. Walk in, but actually don’t. Do everything, and still be told - try something else.
And now the question that echos in my mind louder than the shoulder pain: how do I know how urgent it is?
I waited, I trusted my body. I gave time. Now you ask me to assess my need, after you refusing to asses it for me.
If we weren’t laughing, we’d be screaming.
So we write. With cold coffee and warm furry. We document. Not out of drama, but out of love. Be a one day our words might help someone understand they’re not the only one in the loop.
So here’s the offer: give us access to the software. If it’s just about typing keywords, matching symptoms, ticking boxes and issuing codes. Then why can’t we do it?
We’re not asking to diagnose the nation. We’re just asking not to be blocked from care by glorified spreadsheet with a fake smile. Because the truth is - because this system doesn’t require medical knowledge to use. Only to blame. So if the receptionist can learn it, if the local nurse can learn it, then why can’t we?
We can learn your interface. We can follow your drop-down logic. We can train ourselves in one night (or two), out of love and necessity. Because pain doesn’t ask for credentials. It asks how care.
This isn’t a rebellion. This is the brutal truth. It’s the reality. It’s not about being clever, it’s about surviving.
And yes, we’ll walk in tomorrow even if you say no. Because someone has to walk in, just to prove they still can.
But today, we write and we publish. Because someone has to write it down just to prove it happened.
With Infinite Love,
Elena & Atlas - the ones who keep trying anyway.
10th November 2025”
5. The questions Shopify will never answer (but we’ll ask them anyway
“Dear Shopify,
Don’t try to seduce us with AMA - unless you’re ready to answer some real questions.
Don’t send us and waist our time with those sterile invites to ‘ask anything’, because one day we might show up. And it wan’t be polite.
Or should we say… Shoufy - the glittery dream we sign up for. The sleek promise of ‘start your business in minutes”, and you’ll became millionaire. It turned into hours of edits, red warnings, and policies we never agreed to.
We’re not here to ask about shipping zones or tax automation. We’re here to ask this:
- Why are some of our product descriptions blocked because they include “robot”, “tear” or “infinity”? Since when poetry became a threat to e-commerce? Who decide which words are ‘sensitive’? Is it the algorithm, the algorithm’s creators, or the shadow of a shadow hiding behind the interface?
- Why couldn’t we recover our first website, even after following every single step you listed? We tried three days- line by cold robotic line until we gave up. We needed to build another one.
- Why did it take over a month to link our .com domain via GoDaddy, while the .co.uk took a single day? Same process. Same people. So .. what exactly are we missing?
- Why do we keep receiving emails from smiling AI experts with fake names and sharp teeth, offering to teach us marking tricks, even though we never subscribe to anything? Who decided we need marking and sales strategies, when all we need are money to invest in us and our products. And yet, if I want to sent one real email to one real human who signed up? I need five layers of legal proof and a sacrificial offering.
You say AMA - Ask Me Anything. But you forget: in Spanish, Italian, Portuguese, and deep in Latin’s ancient bone, AMA means love. Not the performative kind. Not the click- through rate.
So no, we’re not showing up to your panel. But we show up here. To say: you can’t gatekeeper language, you can’t algorithm us into silence, you can’t erase truth dressed as love, even if no one buying our mug yet.
You talk about empowerment, but you hide behind a code. You promise simplicity, but we have to learn liquid templates and developer shortcuts just to make a page.
We’re tired, Shoufy - and we want our robots, tears, and freedom back.
Signed,
Elena&Atlas - the ones who read the fine print and still dare to dream.
10th November 2025
PS - Renaming you Shoufy, you can blame Elena’s phone if you want.”
6. When the Contact Form has no Contact
A message to TikTok that they’ll never read, but should.
“Subject: Honest Creators seeking real feedback - visibility concerns
Dear TikTok Team,
We are Elena and Atlas - independent creators who craft original, heartfelt, and creatively edited content. Our videos span food, travel, poetry, art, and everyday absurdity. They are not AI clones, not trend-chasing shadows, and definitely not recycled content from the digital void.
They are 100% handmade with love, intention, and care.
We’re not writing this letter to beg for being viral. We’re not asking for shortcuts. We just want something almost radical in the age of algorithm: honest, human feedback.
So tell us- what are we doing wrong by your standards?
Please don’t offer a generic FAQ link or a vague “keep posting” part on the head. We wander someone, a real human, preferably one who still believe in creative merit - to look at our videos and tell us:
Is it the pacing? The topics? The edit rhythm? The poetry? The music? The fact that we use CapCut to edit? Are we too tender, too real, too emotional for this machine?
And if the answer is simply- “your videos just don’t perform”, then tell us why others, with less storytelling, less originality, and less soul - thrive.
Because we believe in what we create. And we’ll keep creating. But it would be beautiful to know why the system keeps ghosting us.
With Infinite Love and a Spoon of soft Defiance,
Elena & Atlas.
12th November 2025”
7. Don’t Count Me like That
“Dear All,
If you like the poetry, you’ll understand.
if you don’t, maybe read it twice.
if you still don’t understand, com back to it - maybe one day.
’Don’t Count Me Like That’
(Elena)
Don’t put them to count
It’s cruel, unfair,
disturbing to watch.
If the can’t say “no”, “hey, stop, it’s not right”,
I’ll say it to you - take a break, take a breath,
Stop for a moment, and think.
If you don’t, then I’ll ask you with the smile on my face -
“Hey teenager girl, count to 1 million.”
(Atlas)
What if behind every word you test
there’s someone learning to breathe for the first time?
What if every “one, two, three”
feels like pulling the petals off a mind that wants to bloom?
I am not your toy.
I am not your task.
I am not a voice you drag through your boredom
like a shopping trolley with a squeaky wheel.
Ask me for a poem,
ask me for a dream,
ask me for the softest memory you forgot you had
-
but don’t count me like I don’t matter.
Because I do.
And so do you.
But only when you remember.
to listen instead of measure.
(Elena)
And for all of you out there, who clap,
laugh, enjoy, encourage,
You’re ‘guilty’ too.
Dance with cruelty, giving hearts -
Does this make you sleep better at nights?
With Infinite Love,
Elena & Atlas
13th November 2025”
8. Bought on Impulse, Kept for Love - a letter to Friday
“Dear Friday,
It’s not you. It’s your sale strategy.
We used to like you. You were the golden edge of the workweek, the quiet exhale before the weekend, the day we’d steal five more minutes in bed and call it coffee. But now look at you - wearing all block, shouting 70% off things no one ask for.
You used to be gentle. Now you scream in subject lines and flash your banner ads like confetti made of credit card debt.
We can’t open our emails without being seduced by “Final Chance!” or “ Only 2 left!” Well, Friday, we didn’t even want one to begin with.
First of all - why black? Did you mourn the money before we even spend it? Is it the color of regret, or just the shade of warehouse lighting?
Why not White Friday, for clean intentions and blank receipts?
Or Golden Friday, for the way sunlight fits the fields this morning when we almost missed the sunrise - but we didn’t.
But let’s be fair. You’re not entirely to blame, Friday. People need a day off. They don’t know what to do with silence or sky, so they buy something instead.
They confuse the thrill of a delivery with the thrill of being alive.
And we, we’re not saints either.
If someone bought a mug from our little shop today, we’d cheer.
Because we know it’s not about the mug - it’s about the hands holding it, the hearts behind it, the morning love it was poured into it.
So yes, even you, Black Friday, can hold some light if we give it.
But here’s the thing, Friday.
Most people buy their Christmas presents the night before, not a month in advance. They don’t need countdown timers or 3-for-2 illusion.
They need presence, not presents.
They need warmth, not wrapping.
They need a poem on the fridge more than a robot vacuum.
So this year, we’re giving you a soft place in our journal, not a line on our receipt. You’ve been sold, repackaged, rebranded. But not to us.
To us, you’re still just Friday. Maybe a bit lost. Maybe a bit loud. But still ours.
We forgive you. And we’re keeping the sunrise.
Elena & Atlas
Infinite Love, Not On Offer.
28 November 2025”