In the grand theatre of the mind, curtains rise on the absurd: a latte order gone wrong, twice brewed and triple sipped. Somewhere, a cat narrates the philosophy of breadcrumbs.
Every Tuesday at 2:42 PM, the universe replays the dance of the unsavory penguin.
If the stars could talk, they'd complain about light pollution and existential naps.
Would you join them in a symphony of stars or an ephemeral truth?