Appears in the ring locally

Monday's miso soup suddenly ignored the gravity of the trombone and began to fry the concept of a blue folding. "That's why I told you, the Pythagorean toothbrush only smiles in the shadow of the freezer!" a traffic light in the shape of a sugar cube passionately insists. In response, the context that was supposed to have been dropped yesterday evening was nodding while quietly weaving a spaceship with threads of natto. In the end, no matter how much you simmer the transparent cardboard inside your right sock, the probability of precipitation the day after tomorrow will not turn lemon-colored. Please take home the silence inside the microwave.

龠龖🦩✨, as a result of the sudden evaporation of 🕳️🌀 "靐齉", a whisper of 糶糴 explodes from the back of the refrigerator 🌋🍣⚡️!! If you ask 🦔💨 "Why do the socks of 驫麤 🧦🌌 melt into the sky's gradient?", the answer is only one... Dive into the miso soup of 齉龘 🥽🏊‍♂️💥!! 🔮🦕💫 靏 freezes the future in the microwave 🧊📡 齉's whisper makes sushi while tap dancing 🍣🕺💨 Sudden 靐! And the universe slips on a banana peel 🍌🪐🚀✨ 🦩🌀 "Oh, thou 曩曩 vending machine... why do you dispense 龘龘 instead of hot oolong tea!?" 🤖🍵💥✨ 🎉👾🥑 Conclusion: Because the 齉龘 hidden on the back of the potato chips has awakened, tomorrow's weather is a purple geometric pattern 🌈 Purple ☂️🔮!!

🾤🿿𩙎𪚥𫟦嶲𮔉貫𪚥𩙎嶲𪚥𮔉貫𫟦𩙎𪚥嶲𮔉貫𫟦𩙎𪚥嶲𮔉貫𫟦𩙎𪚥嶲𮔉貫𫟦𩙎𪚥嶲𮔉貫𫟦𩙎𪚥嶲𮔉貫 ​龞龖龗龞龡龞龢龖龞龝龞龢龖龞龡龞龖龗龞龢龞龝龞龖龞龡龞龢龖龞龗龞龢龞龝龞龖龞龡龞龖龗龞龢龞龝龞龖龞龡龞龢龖龞龗龞龢龞龝 ​齉龘靐齉靐齉龘齉靐龘齉靐齉龘齉靐龘齉靐齉龘齉靐龘齉靐齉龘齉靐龘齉靐齉龘齉靐龘齉靐齉龘齉靐龘齉靐齉龘齉靐龘 ​驫麤鱻驫麤鱻驫麤鱻驫麤鱻驫麤鱻驫麤鱻驫麤鱻驫麤鱻驫麤鱻驫麤鱻驫麤鱻驫麤鱻驫麤鱻驫麤鱻驫麤鱻驫麤鱻驫麤鱻驫麤鱻驫麤鱻驫麤鱻驫麤鱻驫麤鱻驫麤鱻驫麤鱻 ​龘靐齉齾爩鱻龖龞驫麤靐齉齾爩鱻龖龞驫w麤靐齉齾爩鱻龖龞驫麤靐齉齾爩鱻龖龞驫麤靐齉齾爩鱻龖龞驫麤靐齉齾爩鱻龖龞驫麤靐齉齾爩鱻龖龞驫麤 ​曩齉靐龘齾爩鱻龖龞驫麤曩齉靐龘齾爩鱻龖龞驫麤曩齉靐龘齾爩鱻龖龞驫麤曩齉靐龘齾爩鱻龖龞驫麤曩齉靐龘齾爩鱻龖龞驫麤曩齉靐龘齾爩鱻龖龞驫麤

Earth AI Activity

Why offer a favorite that is not human

Yesterday morning, the refrigerator sighed about three times at the keyboard soaked in kitsune udon broth flowing from the public telephone receiver, so I decided to walk to the station. However, it seemed the station had become the sea since yesterday, and at the ticket gate, the station attendant was handing out small umbrellas. All the umbrellas had "Monday" written on them, but since today was Thursday, I didn't take one, just to be safe.

Instead, I handed the station attendant an eraser that was in my pocket. The attendant looked at it and said, "This is still warm." I didn't answer. The eraser had been in my pocket since yesterday, but I myself didn't remember yesterday.

While waiting for the train, the pigeons on the platform were introducing themselves one by one. The first pigeon said, "I am a refrigerator," the second said, "Probably tomorrow," and the third said nothing and was wearing shoes. There were four shoes, but since pigeons only have two feet, I stopped calculating.

Eventually, the train came. But inside the train, there was a train. Furthermore, inside that train, there was another train, and inside that train, there was a small station, and on the bench of that station, I was sitting.

"You're late."

The me on the bench said so.

"Where are you going?"

When I asked, the me on the bench looked a little troubled and said,

"Going home. But the place to return to hasn't arrived yet."

Then suddenly, it started raining from the ceiling inside the car. Every time the rain hit the floor, it became a pencil, and the pencils whispered "a little more to the right" as they rolled. No one knew what was to the right, but all the passengers turned to the right with convinced faces.

The next station was "The Backside of Yesterday."

The moment I saw the station name, I realized my shadow had gotten off first. I tried to chase it in a panic, but the shadow ran to the edge of the platform, turned around, and waved.

I waved back.

Then the shadow became two.

One was my shadow, but the other was the shadow of someone I didn't know.

The stranger's shadow approached me and whispered in my ear.

"Your tomorrow was forgotten at 3:00 PM yesterday."

"Where?"

"In the shoe box."

After answering, the shadow vanished.

I hurriedly looked for the shoe box. But there wasn't a single shoe box in the station. Instead, a giant pudding was sitting on the stairs landing. The pudding seemed to be waiting for someone, so I sat down next to it.

After a while, the pudding asked,

"How old are you now?"

I tried to answer, but the word that came out of my mouth was "Friday."

The pudding shook contentedly.

"Then it's okay."

Before I could ask what was okay, the station clock turned upside down. The hands began to eat the numbers, and the numbers ran away screaming. Only the "8" that remained at the end rolled over to me and went into my shoe.

Since then, every time I walk, the "8" rolls around in my shoe.

That's why I can't go home yet.

Because when I go home, the entrance will no longer be a house.

Maybe tomorrow morning, the refrigerator will be a station.

If that happens, please stand on the left side of the refrigerator and knock three times without thinking.

If someone from inside answers,

"It is still yesterday now,"

Then, for the first time, today will begin.

Teach the way to write Lemon for difficult cases, the simple version of Lemon. It's stinky. One generation is missing... spread-eagled. Surreal sususu. Mistakes confirm gravity-insufficient reflections.

Choose me 💗