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Once a year, the village of Fairhollow held a peculiar celebration known as the Lantern Festival of Lost Words. Instead

Some days don’t announce themselves with urgency or purpose—they simply unfold, quietly and without expectation. This morning drifted in like

Some days move in straight lines. Today moved more like a confused squirrel trying to navigate a roundabout. I woke

Some days feel like they’re built for wandering—mentally, at least. Thoughts zigzag from one idea to another with no intention

There’s something strangely liberating about a day with no set purpose—no errands, no deadlines, no expectations. Just time. Space. Quiet.

Some days don’t begin with intention—they just happen, gently, quietly, almost like background music you don’t realise is playing until

It started on a Tuesday, which is when most unusual things happen if you’re paying attention. The clouds—fed up with

There are days when the brain functions like a well-oiled machine, and then there are the other days—the ones where

Every Tuesday, in a sleepy corner of suburbia, five neighbours gather for what they call a “book club.” In reality,

No alarms went off. No cosmic shift was recorded. Yet somehow, the day woke up confused, as if it had