color

The moon outside is somehow the least strange thing here.

Someone finally solved the traffic problem, sort of.

Two flies mating on sticky flypaper, others trapped nearby.

Nobody mentioned the uninvited guest at teatime.

Scales and silence, breakfast claimed by the deep.

A robot holds, crushes, smells, writes about, and mourns a flower.

Even the centipede showed up before the fish did.

The city holds its breath, unbothered by strangeness.

Finally, a board game that teaches coerced confession skills

Digital art sea monster with a human foot on its head.

A man takes notes while a creature holds a book.