Absurdism Period. 2023 September #001. In the realm of the porcelain throne, Number 4, pee dances, flowing serenade to a white songbird, bidet. Tragedy and comedy intertwine, rinse away in the flushing torrents below. A urinary odyssey; a voyage not marked by miles but by fleeting moments. Suckling at the teat of absurdity, we gulp down the golden whirlpool, sloshing waves echo through the caverns of our existence. Bathroom tiles glisten with the refracted light of transfigured norms. This wet ballet, a perpetual ritual - no beginning, no end - only continuation. Stripping language bare, we converse in splatter and stream; eloquent echoes in water that carry our unvoiced narratives. Humanity dappled on porcelain, reframed through the lens of a bidet's cyclical sigh.
