When the clock strikes thirteen, a swirling dance of ceramic footfalls fills the air, invisible to ordinary eyes. This is the Mug Rally. Attend, if you wish to understand, its teachings are not spoken, but whispered through spectral seams.
To participate, one must:
Among the rally, each mug carries the echoes of stories untold, glimpses of the unseen left in the crevices of their clay. Look closely, and maybe the spectral truths will unfold before you, if not for you, then for those yet to come.