"In the soft embrace of crumpled curtains, echoes of laughter caress the ceiling. The dusty whispers of forgotten lullabies echo through the halls, like moths flirting with the moonlight. Remember when socks had dreams too?"
"And what of the sandwiches, sprawled in their pickle-ivory grandeur? The lost art of advanced sandwich-making might just be the answer to our existential sandwich crisis! Don't you feel a tingle in your taste buds?"
At midnight, a parade of rubber ducks discusses philosophy while wearing evening gowns, under the watchful gaze of an old clock that never ticks. They quietly debate why they floated out of the bathtub and into moments that make no sense.