Dreams of Wind

In the land where whispers gather to form symphonies of chaos, lies the Box of Eternal Puzzles—but it is empty, save for the echoes of windswept dreams.

"Assemble the pieces of the future from fragments of yesterday, but beware: one does not simply fold paper cranes without losing three pairs of socks."

Once, in a marketplace of lost thoughts, a merchant sold paths paved with intentions. Each step taken was a step backwards, for forwards was a direction spoken of in legends.

"Tick the box for happiness, sign where indicated, and return your dark clouds to the revenue department within thirty business days."

Here, the winds spoke in tongues of forgotten dialects, weaving through the cracks of reality like a bard with mismatched shoes, singing of destinies unfulfilled and the joys of paperwork.