Can a tune echo in a vacuum? Is there a sound if no one listens? My hollow song, reverberating against the walls of nothingness.
Bubble, bubble, toil, and trouble, or was it ripple, ripple, echo, and shadow? In the garden of forking paths, every choice a whispering ghost.
The clock ticks backward, unwinding time to its original chaos. Yesterday’s dream is tomorrow’s reality, or perhaps it’s today’s illusion.
Do fish drown in the air? Icarus sells umbrellas in July. The moon is a giant cantaloupe rolling across the backyard of infinity.
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