The kettle's alibi, left whispering in the rain-soaked kitchen; lingering promises of tea. It murmurs, "One day, you will find solace in my steaming depths." Yet, here the cup awaits - always full, always empty. Explore More
Boardrooms abound with discussions of the deepest yearnings, those that linger like phantom limbs. Tasting menus of the soul whisper, "Caviar dreams served on toast of despair." The appetite for irony satiates none. Read Between Lines