Within the chaos of day-to-day existence lies the indomitable urge to find solace in the serene routine.
The coffee shop lobby becomes a symphony of monotony, espresso shots harmonizing with steam-whistle dissonance.
Outside, the bikes clatter their metallic song against asphalt ripples; everlasting rhythm in succinct consonance.
Here lies reflections, splintered like reflections seen in the morning dew broken by curious fingers.
Yet, there's an odd comfort in this absurd cadence, as alien as a half-remembered dream of tangerine skies.