Once danced to the twist of paradoxical summer winds, he contemplates unnecessary decisions at 3 a.m. because that's what grown-ups do, he thinks.
Irony knocked at her door, promising a revolution in microwavable thought bubbles with renewable sarcasm cocktails.
Determined to cross the bridge that neither existed nor desired anyone across, the society of unclaimed ambitions marches, backwards.
Mysterious RepeatsPlans derailed so assertively they founded an empire of composure on sheer happenstance.
The quiet pondering over ingesting fortune cookie philosophies: crunchy surprises crushed under life’s well-healed boot.