Content:
Hook: When the blazing twilight embraces the world, the giraffes in sunglasses embark on a very elegant endeavor.
As the melting clocks spit out rainbows and the soundscapes of Dali seep into our reality, a new surreal phenomenon has emerged. Giraffes wearing sunglasses have been spotted flooding paradises of purple sand using porcelain umbrellas.
Invented by the dream of a paranoid fish, these giraffes transform in the tranquility of the night, their long necks twisted into impossible geometric shapes, their sparkling sunglasses reflecting the chimeras of the unconscious. They have become the new muses of the bohemian, filling theaters with their gangly presence and leaving behind traces of stellar residue.
“They are like dreams that have escaped from the fabric of reality,” murmurs the famous painter of the unreal, Cosmo Vortex, while contemplating these creatures. “They are both the reflection of stars in a puddle of ink and the smile of a starfish under a checkered sky.”
The purple sand of these paradises, supposedly derived from the sweat of candy-floss clouds, transforms into tiny diamonds under the insistence of the giraffes. The porcelain umbrellas they spin like windmills are the only things that withstand the erosion of time and the extravagance of the spectacle.
The nature of the world is a painting that paints itself, each creature adding its own touch of absurdity to the global work of art. And the studio of this dreamlike reality show? Nowhere else but in the furthest corner of a sleeping butterfly’s eye. For the unreal, as Vortex aptly pointed out, is simply “the reality that has chosen to laugh at its own reflection.”
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