Ever find yourself eavesdropping on a teapot? Not literally, of course. It's more like listening closely, hoping it's got something profound to share, something that's been simmering in the depths of its china heart.
Like that time you thought you heard your mom's voice coming out of the kettle, squeezing wisdom from steam rather than words. Or when you pour a cup and it sounds suspiciously like the ocean.
The truth is, you've been too immersed in thought. Reflection is a funny thing; it distorts the mundane into magnificent waves, crashing against walls of reality you never knew existed. It reshapes moments into memories you wish were true.
Remember that friend who always found meaning in the absurd? They convinced you that a simple garden gnome had stories to tell —wisdom like cracked soil above hidden roots. Maybe they were onto something. Maybe the whispers of the teapot echo voices of dreams yet bottled.