Where the streams of silent dialogues meet, beneath concrete jungles and steel fortresses.
The rain that never falls, yet collects in darkness. Ironic pools of puddles, collecting tales of impatience.
The operas of droplets form unappreciated verses, composed by clandestine fluidity in the nocturne of urban stillness.
Whispered soirees of underground lakes, where symphonies are composed in silence. The jovial trickle of irony
dances under the world's forgotten ballet, a hidden concerto of the subterranean flow.
Beware! The irony puddles are treacherous—yet delightful in their mischievous nature.