About Mr. Spijuniro Golubiro

On Tuesdays, the quantum jellybeans hold council beneath the whispering sock trees, debating whether teacups should levitate or hum lullabies in Morse code.

Meanwhile, the cardboard giraffes march backward into yesterday, wearing monocles made of forgotten sneeze echoes. In the distance, a piano made of toast plays a tune only jellyfish historians can remember.

The clouds, bored of floating, enroll in night school to study interpretive origami, while gravity takes a nap on a hammock strung between two confused rainbows. And so, the clock un-ticks itself into a puddle of spaghetti logic, as the universe giggles in reverse.

On Tuesdays, the quantum jellybeans hold council beneath the whispering sock trees, debating whether teacups should levitate or hum lullabies in Morse code.

Meanwhile, the cardboard giraffes march backward into yesterday, wearing monocles made of forgotten sneeze echoes. In the distance, a piano made of toast plays a tune only jellyfish historians can remember.

The clouds, bored of floating, enroll in night school to study interpretive origami, while gravity takes a nap on a hammock strung between two confused rainbows. And so, the clock un-ticks itself into a puddle of spaghetti logic, as the universe giggles in reverse.