Whispers of the Compass

So, you know how a compass spins until it decides which way is up? It's funny, it feels kind of alien, right? But imagine being that compass, zipping around, seeking a pole. Sometimes I wonder if our thoughts are like magnetic forces, pulling us towards familiar yet unheard destinations.

I found myself staring into the infinity in a cup of tea the other day. The way the light danced and refracted— it whispered secrets of nonexistent galaxies. Over a sip, we discussed the possibility of there being life in teapots too. What do you think? Perhaps they ponder their leaves and dream in hues of chamomile.

Reflection isn't always about deciphering profound mysteries. Sometimes it's those tiny interactions— like a conversation with a shadow on a late Sunday afternoon—when that shadow shares its regrets of being unable to catch up with the fading sun.

If you’d like to lose yourself further, perhaps echoes or gaze into your own introspectacles.