Even teddy bears know where to find the best banter.

It felt as though I had stepped into an open-air theater where the bushland itself played the role of silent spectator. The caravan's weathered exterior carried stories of time and creativity; its peeling paint was like a canvas for the absurd. The teddy bears sat there nonchalantly, as if they'd been caught mid-conversation. One wore sunglasses—a 'bad boy' among plush companions—while another seemed to lean forward as if offering sage advice to an invisible crowd. The sign above the window was unapologetically blunt, yet it somehow added charm to this peculiar scene. I found myself wondering who had thought to create this odd masterpiece. Perhaps it was someone who understood that humor has a way of thriving in isolation. The television set on the ground looked like it had been retired from its previous life but still wanted to be part of the spectacle. If objects could laugh, surely this place would echo with their chuckles.