There are epochs when silence becomes impossible — not because the world grows quiet, but because its noise demands interpretation. The Palintrope belongs to such a moment. It is a philosophical dialogue in seven days, set in a timeless 1920s-style café in Königsberg where the dead and the living, the East and the West, the geometers and the mystics, gather around the same table. Kant presides. Heraclitus burns. Parmenides insists. Nāgārjuna empties. Gödel smiles at the unprovable...