At the intersection where rain meets concrete, lies a puddle reflecting dreams forgotten.
I often ponder these reflections, pondering what it means to be caught between worlds: the known and the unspoken.
Yet there, amid the reflections, looms a rubber chicken—squeaking under the deluge, mockingly interrupting my reverie.
"Aha!" exclaimed the chicken, "Have you ever tried to cross the street with existential dread in one hand and a sandwich in the other?"
The streets laughed, a cacophony of echoes and honks, as I stood, caught between the joke and the punchline.
Such intersections are rare, where reality fuses with the absurd. Perhaps it's here we learn, not from the grand lessons of life, but from the simple, ludicrous moments—a sneeze that sets off a domino rally of pigeons, or a lost umbrella that dances like a dervish in the wind.