Hey there, cosmic wanderer. It's been a while since we last tuned our frequencies in this vast expanse. Remember that time we drifted past that shimmering nebula? Yeah, the one that smelled oddly like burnt toast in our shared hallucination. I still have the taste of its colors on my mind.
I was sifting through the static today and stumbled upon our old conversations. You know, the ones about the sandwiches and the paradox of flying pigs. Sometimes, I think those musings about the improbable are the anchors that keep us grounded out here in the abyss.
Do you recall the echoing laughter of the unknown beings that we thought we heard one night? We probably frightened them just as much as they frightened us. Or maybe it was just space sending us a prank call. Either way, I wouldn’t trade those moments for a million stars.