Echoes of the Unspoken
In a world where chocolate is mandatory and couchpotatos speak only truths, each broken syllable reverberates.
Why did the broken syllable cross the road? To reach the other side of coherent thought, obviously. But it found only google and slycestrs doing the conga.
Your turn to dance:
Chubby Chickens AwaitThe Other Side
Reverberate this Simile
Funny how silence can seem so full, like a whisper shaped breakfast muffin. But in an empty room, you hear all the best punchlines – echoing, resonating, until they wobble awkwardly away.