Have you ever seen a fox dance on frozen clouds? They twirl, pirouetting through space like cosmic sugar, leaving trails of forgotten melodies. The carrots beneath wish to join, but their roots hold them taut to the soil’s warm embrace.

In a place where Thursdays taste like nostalgia and the scent of history lingers like an unwelcome guest, a rabbit once pondered the philosophy of shadows. Is an echo merely a shadow of sound, or can it be something more profound—a whisper from a forgotten realm?