Welcome to the stage of the inexplicably articulate bench. Here, the wood whispers secrets and the bolts creak confessions.
Ever wondered what a bench thinks about when the sun takes its bow and the stars refuse their encore? We have too.
Once upon a mid-afternoon, a squirrel attempted small talk. The bench replied with silence; a classic retort. The squirrel, unimpressed, found acorns more engaging.
Rumor has it, the bench has chronicled the lives of many, including a particularly chatty pigeon named Gerald. Gerald's memoirs are still in the works.