In the fading light, we consider the bathtubs of yesteryear, where rubber ducks float with the grace of lost memories. Eternal dusk whispers secrets to the fog, each droplet multiple choice.
Did you remember to forget the breadcrumbs left in the garden? The roses are pink, the thorns - well, they bloom at midnight.
Dear future, covered in static, a kaleidoscope of abstractions. Can you decipher the encrypted laughter echoing from the drawers of yesterday's resignation letters?
The toaster remembers a ballet of burnt bread slices while the fridge faithfully encodes volumes of expired milk. Was it really expired, or merely a metaphor for time?
Links to our fragmented narratives: