Rain tap dances on roofs, dragging shadows into puddles. Yet, in the lonely cupboard lies an umbrella, its ribs whispering of sunlit escapades. Has it ever rained indoors? Or does it guard against invisible showers?
You've seen it. A compass needle of taste, crafted in velvet whispers. It claims no soup is served without its nod of approval. Who feeds with spoons of velvet, you wonder?
Dust piles atop its pendulum, memories trapped between each tick. They say, at night, it stretches limbs among star-riddled dreams. A clock is confined by its terms, yet its heart races free.