Today I found some interesting rice.
It was not the normal sort of rice, the kind that shows no fear of being eaten, but the sort of rice that is convinced it is a recently deceased ex-army officer.
As I approached the rice, it began reciting some nutritional information from a selection of cereal packets, and I sat down, intrigued, and listened intently.
As I listened, a gentleman with a bowler hat took his place next to me and began to play a rusty old accordion, badly.
I told him to stop playing the accordion because I was trying to listen to the rice, but he merely smirked and played even louder.
I stood up and walked away from the man, and went off for a stroll along the promenade, but after a while, I became convinced that the rice I had been trying to listen to was none other than an old acquaintance who I hadn't seen for a good ten years now.
I hurried back to find the rice no where to be seen, but I noticed that the gentlemen with the accordion had turned into a post office and was quickly deteriorating and becoming abandoned, now that everyone had discovered long distance communication was cheaper and more convenient using their nasal cavities.
I went home with a pang of guilt and ate some berries. It was only as I was chewing on a berry did I realise the significance of the fluffy dice people hang on their rear-view mirrors.
Tomorrow I will begin the rest of my life, as will we all.
Listening to: mirror reflections
Reading: ice cream
Watching: flag poles dancing
Playing: with distances
Eating: free speech
Drinking: USB drives