Once upon a quiet evening, when whispers danced like shadows on the walls, there were threads of silver. Children in pajamas spoke with the dusk, and it spoke back with stories in a language only they understood. Somewhere, nestled between the twilight's sighs, there was a riddle.
The clouds have shapes: baskets, dreams, and sometimes, frogs that sing. A door opens every time someone giggles under the moon, but only the nimble-footed can see them.
If the stars blink twice, it means the night turned the sands into whispers once more. In those sands, your name is written, and no one knows why but the silver threads. Dance with them and you shall understand.