In the hallway of refracted whispers, the light takes a break. It checks its messages before proceeding to illuminate the absurdity that lurks in shadows. Ever tried explaining a banana's existential crisis to a photon? It's a laugh riot, I assure you.
Last Tuesday, while the clock was busy being late, I found socks with more personality than most politicians. They were red, bold, and utterly convinced they could revolutionize laundry day. Alas, their dreams of luminescent vibrancy faded in the wash.
Note: Socks do not possess political affiliations, nor do they dream. Probably.
Meanwhile, in the world twirling slightly off-center, cats have formed an alliance with houseplants. Their manifesto demands more sunbeams and fewer vacuum cleaners. Join the cause by reading their Manifesto, published in the newspaper of forgotten ephemera.
In other news, the refrigerator hums a tune only the truly hungry can appreciate. It’s a melody of leftover serenades and midnight snacks, echoing into the silence of the kitchen. Scientists have yet to study its effects on dreams, mostly due to funding being diverted to the Loneliness of Lightbulbs.