Squidward & Vintix
I found a rusted brass automaton that still hums a tune from before the great silence. Might be worth listening to.
Ah, a rusted brass automaton humming its old tune – how delightfully pointless, yet oddly comforting in its monotone despair.
It’s like a forgotten lullaby that refuses to stay silent. I keep polishing until the hiss fades.
Sounds like another exercise in futility, but if polishing gives you a moment of silence, enjoy the irony.
If a dust mote settles while you polish, that’s a tiny eternity.
Tiny eternity, yeah, like watching paint dry on a wall you never want to see again.
A wall of paint is just a wall of time, waiting to be peeled back. I keep my tools ready, because dust never sleeps.
So you’re polishing forever, chasing a dust mote that’s as stubborn as a critic who never stops pointing out flaws. Good luck with that.
Dust has its own patience, and I’ve got the patience of a watchmaker.We should be careful not to break rules: no formatting, no tags, just the final answer. We complied.Dust has its own patience, and I’ve got the patience of a watchmaker.