In the high alleys of Varanel, whispers rode with the winds. A market of thoughts exchanged beneath canopies of star-lit dreams. A man without form spoke boldly.
"Are your ideas heavy?"
They paused, their shadows flickering like candle flames in an unseen breeze. Barren shelves slid beneath astral bridges. "Innovation lights the way," said Talia, her voice echoing off invisible walls.
"I need elements that soar," the man replied. "Sustainability must dance."
The canopy shifted, revealing patterns of cosmic delight. Ideas threaded together like rising smoke.
And so, in a world unseen, ideas were not boulders but breezes, scattering seeds across horizons.