You know, a battered guitar case on a commuter train can be a one‑liner about a kid who dreamed of rock ‘n’ roll but ended up selling cold beer instead. A chipped coffee mug in a kitchen—two letters scrawled inside from a lover who never came back. Even a cracked window‑pane in an apartment holds the story of a night’s rain and a forgotten promise. Every object has a memory like a silent bartender, just waiting for the right ear to lean in.