Welcome, astral wanderer, to the ironically lucid realm of Light Minutes. Where time, the intangible rebel, defies rationality and straddles absurdity. A light year may sound like it makes sense, yet a light minute? One must question the satirical essence of our own measurements.
Imagine, if you will, a universe where you can measure the commute of photons in dwindling minute segments. As if they were late to a cosmological appointment, sipping cosmic espresso along the way. The idea tickles the mind and wheezes through the galaxies with an audible [SVG GOES HERE].
Ponder, dearest thinker, the implications. Navigating our universe requires a keeper of notes, wielding a sarcastic compass that points not to North, but to existential quandary. In this universe, our ships sail between mute stars, singing the ballads of quantum homebodies.
For a deeper plunge into cosmic folly, consider The Lumen's Prance, a riveting exploration of luminal shenanigans. Or, for a sidestep into reality's prismatic perspective, visit The Void's Social Whirl.