Ever wondered if a cat could predict your lunch? If so, ponder this: the cat sleeps, you snack, mystery remains.
"I do not want your pastry," said the cat, but its eyes said otherwise.
Meanwhile, the dog tries too hard to decode the menu: "Bark or be numbers," it thinks.
"Alignment is key," whispered the sandwich to the pickle, "for life is but a toasted press of togetherness." Repeatedly, irreversibly.
Thought: if sandwiches had their own language, it would most certainly be wrapped in tales and grilled goodbyes.
Listen closely, humanity: the arched bread of wisdom tells you something about wisdom being crusty.
Do mirrors ever forget what they reflect? Once they said, "We reflect—hence we are reflected," but then they, too, mournfully gazed into their own soulful reflections. Mirror, mirror, recursion, nothing.