The kettle sings but only to those who forget the teapot's promises of steam-laden wisdom. Seek not the boiling depth, but the quiet hum.
In the land of electric sheep, only the woolen wolves know the way to the power switch. Beware the blinking comfort of simulated warmth.
Beneath the flickering neon of fictitious streetlights, real shadows form alliances. The veil wears a face mask, ironic yet full of sincerity.