Imagine sipping tea with a three-eyed being on a Monday morning. The sun, an unblinking lavender orb, wrestles with clouds made entirely of gelatin.
"You come from where exactly?" they ask, not quite comprehending the concept of streets.
Sometimes, you step into the bakery and the croissants whisper back. "Yes, we do have existential crises too!" they sigh, butter melting away under the fluorescent crunch of reality. Sometimes, the planet spins backward, and everyone nods like it's the subject of last night's dream.
Curious? Explore further realms:
Purple Moon |
Galactic Bash |
Whispering Pastries