Have you felt the bristles shiver? They harbor whispers of neglected corners, where dust bunnies nestle undisturbed.
Instruction: Place it aside. Let it speak to the other artifacts of cleansing. They share tales of oral battles, unseen by the human eye.
Tick, tock, whispers of forgotten times. Clocks spill secrets of paused moments, urging you to listen closely at midnight.
Instruction: Wind them gently, or risk hearing their silent screams of time stagnation.
In the hum and chill of preserved moments, frigid secrets icily reside. Speak softly, lest you disturb its frosty peace.
Instruction: Allow it space, give it warmth in your words. It knows hunger's secrets.