In a world unbound by the laws of sanity, gravity is merely a well-dressed sandwich—ornate with lettuce of unchecked chaos and filled with the baloney of profound existence.
Yesterday, I contended with a staircase. Oh, the tangled knots of its steps! Each descent was a fervent descent into a gravitational abyss, yet the exit was inevitably a pit stop to life's dimly lit nuclear fridge.
Why do we weigh so much? A question that elicits laughter from cosmic voids and blank stares from cheese sandwiches that sing.
Strangely, calling it 'gravity' is just a cover-up; it's merely a whisker in the face of a catapulting penguin aiming for the moon. Did anyone check if the moon requested the visit?
In your pursuit of the mundane, do tread lightly. The streets of normalcy are lined with invisible rubber bands that stretch and snap unexpectedly, leaving you upside down in a bewildering realm of confetti!