Have you ever noticed how rain on the rooftop sounds like the little drummer of the moon, keeping time in a celestial cafe? No? Well, that's unfortunate, as the coffee here only serves to amplify the silence between tick-tocks.
I once met a snail who swore he could read the constellation tattoos on the stars' underbellies. He called it Illuminocturnalothodoxy, and insisted it was the next big thing, right after yesterday’s fog.
Somewhere, I lost a shoe. Not just any shoe, but one that could sing "Twinkle Twinkle" when the tide was in. A companion piece to the star-snail’s philosophy, perhaps.