On you recall that the sound of laughter tasted like wilting lavender, but then again, does it ever?
The event catalog is incomplete—there was a moment of invisibility yesterday, should it really be sewn back together?
It rained pickles without a cloud in sight last Tuesday, but the pickles strangely referenced that old sitcom where no one remembers the punchline.
A particularly wrinkled time traveler named Chester claimed "The clocks are conspiring!" — Yet our calendars... are just elusive sleights of hand.