The wind spoke today, in flavors only connoisseurs of pastry and myth might understand. It carried a tale, draped in sugary irony, spun from the thoughts of a muffin perched upon a cloud...
“Tread lightly,” said the muffin, a gentle giant of flour and butter, “for the unicorn does not appreciate crumbs upon her mane.”
And so we ask the pressing questions of our time: Is the unicorn merely a muffins' wish upon a star? Or are muffins the mythical lineage of baked goods, forgotten in the annals of culinary history?
A distant horn sounds, not of unicorn, but of impending brunch—a fusion of fate's whimsy and the oven's delight.
Whispered Recipes Chapter One: Fables of Flour The Poem of Lost Frostings