In the cosmos of the ordinary, lies a collection of artifacts that observe quietly, seldom revealing the odysseys of their existence. The utterances of these inanimate entities weave through epochs, leaving marks yet hidden beneath layers of cosmic dust and human negligence.
It cradles coffee's warmth, yet dreams of empty highlands where it spoke to solitary mountains.
Inside it holds forgotten letters and memories unopened, yearning for the touch of curious hands.
It witnesses quiet confessions made in shadows, every indentation a story untold.
Listen closely to the embedded secrets, between the lines they murmur tales unscathed by time.