.
𝑺𝒖𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒇𝒐𝒐𝒅𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑺𝒏𝒂𝒌𝒆 𝑶𝒊𝒍
.
Step right up—
or simply tap.
The miracle now comes
with a filter
and a discount code.
.
.
.
𝑺𝒖𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒇𝒐𝒐𝒅𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑺𝒏𝒂𝒌𝒆 𝑶𝒊𝒍
.
Step right up—
or simply tap.
The miracle now comes
with a filter
and a discount code.
.
.
First, they whisper:
Something’s wrong.
Then they lean closer:
It could happen to you.
Soon the music swells,
the shadows stretch,
the numbers climb.
Don’t worry—
they’ve brought a torch.
All you have to do
is follow it
into the dark.
First, they whisper:
Something’s wrong.
Then they lean closer:
It could happen to you.
Soon the music swells,
the shadows stretch,
the numbers climb.
Don’t worry—
they’ve brought a torch.
All you have to do
is follow it
into the dark.
You were shown the crowd.
Smiling.
Certain.
Already inside.
It’s hard to stand alone
when everyone else
looks so comfortable
agreeing.
The bandwagon never shouts.
It simply fills up—
and leaves without you.
You were shown the crowd.
Smiling.
Certain.
Already inside.
It’s hard to stand alone
when everyone else
looks so comfortable
agreeing.
The bandwagon never shouts.
It simply fills up—
and leaves without you.
First, they show you the fire.
Close enough to feel the heat.
Then they widen the flames—
this could spread,
this could reach you.
Only after the smoke thickens
does the solution appear,
calm, ready,
waiting in their hands.
Fear opens the door.
The offer walks in....
.
First, they show you the fire.
Close enough to feel the heat.
Then they widen the flames—
this could spread,
this could reach you.
Only after the smoke thickens
does the solution appear,
calm, ready,
waiting in their hands.
Fear opens the door.
The offer walks in....
.
He smiles,
misdirects,
plants a word,
lets you think it was yours.
You applaud the trick.
But the same hands
frame headlines,
design choices,
shape what feels obvious.
The theatre is smaller than you think.
.
He smiles,
misdirects,
plants a word,
lets you think it was yours.
You applaud the trick.
But the same hands
frame headlines,
design choices,
shape what feels obvious.
The theatre is smaller than you think.
.
Plato called it the noble lie:
a story told
not because it was true,
but because it held things together.
We still tell them—
we just call them narratives
and pretend
we chose them.
.
Plato called it the noble lie:
a story told
not because it was true,
but because it held things together.
We still tell them—
we just call them narratives
and pretend
we chose them.
.
.
We didn’t sell mud or tents or queues.
We sold a memory
they hadn’t finished with yet.
We wrapped discomfort in nostalgia,
called inconvenience a rite of passage,
and let the crowd do the rest.
They didn’t feel persuaded—
they felt summoned.
.
.
.
We didn’t sell mud or tents or queues.
We sold a memory
they hadn’t finished with yet.
We wrapped discomfort in nostalgia,
called inconvenience a rite of passage,
and let the crowd do the rest.
They didn’t feel persuaded—
they felt summoned.
.
.
.
With a label, the thinking went cold,
No need to be fair or be bold.
The word stood in place
Of a life and a face,
And the lie was much easier sold.
.
.
.
With a label, the thinking went cold,
No need to be fair or be bold.
The word stood in place
Of a life and a face,
And the lie was much easier sold.
.
.
.
Ten thousand steps,
clean, round, reassuring.
Not discovered,
not tested—
chosen.
A number born in an advert
learned to walk into habit,
then into belief.
You follow it daily,
faithfully,
never asking
who decided
that this was
the finish line.
.
.
.
Ten thousand steps,
clean, round, reassuring.
Not discovered,
not tested—
chosen.
A number born in an advert
learned to walk into habit,
then into belief.
You follow it daily,
faithfully,
never asking
who decided
that this was
the finish line.
.
.
and dislike the silence.
So lights become signals,
shadows become craft,
and unanswered questions
grow faces.
Aliens aren’t proof of visitors—
they’re proof
that we want the universe
to be watching back.
willcamden.co.uk/why-we-belie...
and dislike the silence.
So lights become signals,
shadows become craft,
and unanswered questions
grow faces.
Aliens aren’t proof of visitors—
they’re proof
that we want the universe
to be watching back.
willcamden.co.uk/why-we-belie...
.
Most of what you know
you have never witnessed.
You believe it anyway,
because someone you trust
described it clearly.
shorturl.at/XYInY
.
Most of what you know
you have never witnessed.
You believe it anyway,
because someone you trust
described it clearly.
shorturl.at/XYInY
.
.
You thought.
You chose.
You agreed.
But the stage was set,
the words rehearsed,
the desire planted.
You didn’t follow orders—
you followed
what felt
like your own idea.
willcamden.co.uk/product/edwa...
.
.
You thought.
You chose.
You agreed.
But the stage was set,
the words rehearsed,
the desire planted.
You didn’t follow orders—
you followed
what felt
like your own idea.
willcamden.co.uk/product/edwa...
.
Alone, you pause.
You weigh.
You doubt.
Together, you feel.
You echo.
You move.
In the crowd,
thought thins,
certainty spreads,
and no one remembers
who decided first.
.
Alone, you pause.
You weigh.
You doubt.
Together, you feel.
You echo.
You move.
In the crowd,
thought thins,
certainty spreads,
and no one remembers
who decided first.
.
We point at old woodcuts
and say,
“How could they believe that?”
Someone will scroll our archives
and say the same.
.
We point at old woodcuts
and say,
“How could they believe that?”
Someone will scroll our archives
and say the same.
You weren’t fooled.
You chose—
and choice
is still valuable
to whoever shaped it.
You weren’t fooled.
You chose—
and choice
is still valuable
to whoever shaped it.
A single word was placed upon them,
neat and sharp as a pin.
After that, nothing else was needed.
The story shrank.
The shape was decided.
And you never noticed
how much thinking the word saved you.
A single word was placed upon them,
neat and sharp as a pin.
After that, nothing else was needed.
The story shrank.
The shape was decided.
And you never noticed
how much thinking the word saved you.
A sovereign king upon a throne—
But the truth you hold, the "self" you see?
I manufactured that for you.
A sovereign king upon a throne—
But the truth you hold, the "self" you see?
I manufactured that for you.
But I have mapped the road ahead.
Through headlines, habits, and subtle fires,
I pull the invisible, silken wires.
But I have mapped the road ahead.
Through headlines, habits, and subtle fires,
I pull the invisible, silken wires.
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Message us here or through the website - willcamden.co.uk/contact/
"At its heart, the book asks two interrelated questions: How do people come to believe things? And who benefits when they do?"
Message us here or through the website - willcamden.co.uk/contact/
Original True Fiction and Modernised Classics on Persuasion, Psychology, Belief and Mythology. willcamden.co.uk
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