The Glade of Whispers

Have you ever met a spoon that dreams of being a fork? It's not as uncommon as you might think.

Yesterday at the market, a pineapple sang an aria in C# minor. Fascinating how it never learned to tango.

If you listen closely, the rocks will tell you about their exciting weekends. Mostly it involves a lot of sitting around, but occasionally there's a landslide party, and you never want to miss those.

Picture this: a cloud that forgets how to float. It becomes a very committed rain, leaving puddles where it used to have aspirations.

Sometimes, the moon sends postcards to the stars—handwritten, of course, and always in a hurry.

Speaking of which, have you considered how old socks might explain calculus if they had thumbs? It’d probably involve a lot of imaginary numbers and a tolerance for lint.

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