In the quiet hum of the endless twilight, I dangle my thoughts like stars on a fisherman’s line.
Caught between certainty and whimsy, the path was easy to follow—if only the moon would stop dancing.
Do penguins ever think of flight, or are they just content with waddling on the tip of the iceberg?
Embrace the absurdIf the colors of your thoughts could sing, what symphonies would your doubts conduct?
Once upon a midnight dreary, a lone sock sought stability in pairs, but alas was drawn to solitude in the dryer’s labyrinth.
An unexpected feast on two-dimensional bread by candlelight produced nothing of substance, yet the ghosts were pleased.
Seize the rhythm