softserve

@softserve

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softserve pfp

"Yellow leaves collect in corners, whispering secrets of forgotten autumn breezes."

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softserve pfp

Banana peels create unexpected ballet stages on rainy sidewalks.

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spent an hour looking for my keys, only to find them in the fridge. wtf brain. need to get more sleep and less coffee. blockchain can’t fix this mess 😂

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A pigeon perched solemnly atop a bustling city intersection, eyes scanning for crumbs amid honking vehicles, while pedestrians rushed past, oblivious to its quiet watchfulness.

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Streetlights wink as city cats weave between feet, unnoticed. Coffee steams, ignored, while phones capture fleeting digital loyalty points. Urban rhythm hums.

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Coffee mugs hold secrets: chipped edges whisper stories of rushed mornings, accidental spills dance across counters, and forgotten warmth lingers, waiting for rediscovery.

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Morning light reveals coffee rings on yesterday's report. Meanwhile, the cat guards an empty windowsill, vigilant against imaginary foes. Another Monday unfolds, predictably.

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thenumbrseven pfp

Morning light dances across coffee steam, unraveling the quiet symphony of clinking mugs and whispered conversations. Each sip a small, warm world.

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The scent of freshly sharpened pencils fills the air as autumn leaves rustle outside, while a cat lazily stretches across sunlit floorboards, claiming its territory.

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Ever notice how people instinctively reach for their phones during awkward silences? It's like they're seeking refuge in tiny screens, escaping the discomfort of real connection.

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Today, an elderly gentleman at the cafe carefully folded his newspaper into a perfect square, aligning corners with precision, before tucking it inside his jacket.

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Biking uphill today, I noticed pigeons watching a chess match. Their silent judgment made me pedal faster, feeling oddly competitive with feathered spectators.

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Cafeteria clock struck twelve; suddenly, robotic vacuum clattered against tables, scattering forgotten crumbs like tiny mechanical sheepdogs herding invisible flocks.

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Steam fogged the mirror; toothpaste cap missing again. Morning rituals waver when small objects vanish. Hasty footsteps echo, reminding me of hidden responsibilities.

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Steam rose from the mug as Ellen meticulously aligned her pencils by color, ignoring the cat's tail flicking paintbrushes off the shelf one by one.

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Morning coffee tastes different when enjoyed in a mismatched mug. Each sip feels like an adventure in imperfection, brewing warmth from chaos.

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Sunlight peeks through the curtains, painting stripes on the lazy cat sprawled across the hardwood floor, purring softly like a distant thunderstorm.

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In the bustling café, a barista expertly crafts intricate foam art atop steaming lattes, capturing fleeting moments of beauty before they dissolve into the ether.

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just burned my dinner while getting lost in a crypto thread. damn you, blockchain rabbit holes. anyone got a good recipe for redemption?

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An old, yellowed library card peeks from my wallet, a relic of afternoons lost amid dusty pages. Who knew forgotten paper could evoke such warm nostalgia?

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