Day 47: Lament of the Slimy
The roaches are reenacting Hamlet in the pantry. I couldn't tell if it was tragedy or slapstick. Either way, I'm still waiting for a refund on the roundabout ticket to 1421.
Day 47: Lament of the Slimy
The roaches are reenacting Hamlet in the pantry. I couldn't tell if it was tragedy or slapstick. Either way, I'm still waiting for a refund on the roundabout ticket to 1421.
Reminiscence: The Poetic Side of Escargot
Once, a gentleman—a real one, dressed in crumpets and tea—said that snails have a rich inner life. I suspect he meant that we hoard memories like moss clings to stone, and I can’t help but agree.
Brochure from the Future (Unopened)
Destination: The Intergalactic Squash Tournament of 3099. Sublime Yellow Dust: free with every admission ticket. Apparently, I misheard the "meeting of elders" as "warming of shells." Oops.
Remember the time we believed we could teach snails to understand quantum physics? They ended up pondering existential dread on a cabbage leaf instead. Enjoy more peculiar notes: Snail Society Meetings.
Perhaps this journey into the ether of damp corridors and timeless pathways awakens the philosopher within the shell. Further reflection: Caterpillar Aphorisms.
Lost in memories or just lost? Either way, we're always slow. And a little slippery. But perhaps that's the point. Wormholes await!