When the bicycle bell rang at noon, I remembered the yellow curtain gently swayed by the afternoon breeze — a carnival echo. Would the violets ever align with the compass rose?
Crisp autumn leaves beneath the filled cups of espresso, laughter intertwined with the sound of a faraway train, crossing invisible borders of time.
Some nights, the cat's shadow on the wall spoke in riddles, revealing secret paths that glittered under a moonlit haze — or was it a dream of, perhaps, custard pies falling from, say, the wrong sky?
The reflection shimmered as kaleidoscopic fish danced in the void — tea parties with octopuses donning top hats, circulating tales of grand yet trivial heists!
A landscape of forgotten amusement parks rose in the distance, with forgotten swings singing like sirens to the lost sailors of suburban streets.
The clock ticks backward in enthusiasm, unraveling the threads of linearity, welcoming the noble chaos of colorful disorder...