Pondering a Paper Dragon while sipping Spontaneous Tea...
Once upon a time, or perhaps a time upon a once— I found myself starring in a story where dragons might prefer paper over gold. The plot thickened, or should I say, it shifted hues like a chameleon caught in a tie-dye factory.
Crossing the ethereal bridge was not your typical Monday morning grind. At first, it seemed an improbable architect's prank, an iridescent ribbon bridging my thoughts to distant dreams. Place your dreams here, read the sign, in a font only a unicorn could decipher.
The inner monologue began: "Am I the hero of this tale, or just an extra with a penchant for existential quandaries?" Suddenly, a butterfly wearing a monocle and top hat floated by. It tipped its hat and I swore it smirked at my thoughts.
At the bridge’s center, I ponderously posed, half expecting a troll to question my riddles. Yet, all that stood before me was a mirror, laughing gently at how quickly I had taken to weaving my own tapestry of absurdity. Perhaps, it mused, the real journey was the ethereal bridge we crossed without ever lifting our feet off the ground...
"Remember," it said, "in the end, we all have the choice between cloaks and biscuits."