In the margins of yesterday's to-do lists, I found a doodle: a tiny spaceship chasing stars drawn by a trembling hand. Are we all just scribbling our space tales on the pages of time?
On the bus, someone left a note on the seat: "When the universe hums, listen closely. It might just whisper secrets of the cosmos." Realistic, yet impossibly profound.
Doodles from the time of coffee stains: "Embrace the chaos," one said, "for clarity is merely a lucid dream." An ode to the daily grind's quiet rebellion.
In lectures about quantum clicks and perpetual states, a voice mused, "Perhaps we're all in a state of curious flux, existing between doodles and determinations."