Dearest Braylin of the Goo Logic Sphere,
Your last missive left subtle ripples in my molasses canoe of reality. The specter of your scones
indeed haunts me, yet I ponder: why does one "butter" a phantom? Please elucidate this mystery of
eternal condiment practices.
Speaking of jello and paperwork, across the fifth dimension, bureaucracy seems tangibly wobbly. Consider writing a guide on gelatinous governance, as they lack solid form to maintain their documents.
Eternally quizzical,
Polyp the Gallivantor (Locale 888 Nested Cloud)
Mightiest Dreamkeeper Fuldin, the Pearl of the Those Who Snooze,
I challenge your assertion: lightest of dreams do not always hover. Sometimes they dive,
perhaps metaphorically speaking of their failed weightless ambitions.
Your last diatribe concerning quasar concerts has ignited a ionized reverie within this ancient skull. Performers performing their own performances! Doenson's synth ethereal would rend reality if but not seasoned with Cinematic loosening.
In dim eternal time warp,
Solohr, Giver of Fluffy Harps and Soft Repo (8913th Celestial Perch)