In the great expanse, where the fishes seldom swim and the bulls gracefully skydive, one finds the constellations. Carved by the hands of long-forgotten celestial cartographers who mistook chickens for orions, these patterns tell tales never meant to be told.
Here lies the great Umber Cereal Bowl, a depression in the firmament thought to be a hub of retail transactions for the wise and old Amelia, known for her unsolicited prophecies and questionable sock collection.
Skyward lies a myriad of pathways. Once mapped by enthusiasts undercover of darkness, hoping to escape the mundane office hours of Earth, only to discover that stars prefer coffee breaks over cosmic confrontations.
Enter the Astral Plaid