Once upon a whisper, an echo fled.
The cat blogs about its 9 lives: a series on sand and existentialism.
The irony of a silent chorus is that it sung too loudly.
"Silence is golden," they said, as the muted orchestra filed for lunch. Ironically, garlic bread was on the menu.
Remember, every sound of silence is an echo waiting for a punchline.
The stars are merely classical music notes on velvet's mist. Who brings such rehearsals to a garden party?