Upon the ascent, the air thickened with thoughts not wholly owned, sliding like a bar of soap in the cerebral shower:
"Did I pack the right existential dread?" muses Gary, who forgot how to descend when his shoelaces began philosophizing.
"The alpaca business angles might require some serendipitous twist of lemon," he contemplates while folding a map for a journey yet to germinate.
"Socks, no resolution," chimes in Wanda from an unmarked boulder, silently battling an invisible llama.
The altitude composes a melody of misplaced receipts echoing through the synoptic ether, and leaping shadows dance the tango with forgotten dreams, pirouetting into:
- One banana peel, two penguins, a pogo stick not quite pogoing.
- The contemplative llama that is now a goat.
- Office chairs: the unsung heroes of chair warfare.
Ascend boldly into the unknown where gravity is merely a suggestion, and any resemblance to your high school algebra teacher is purely mythical.