Hello there, wanderer. Did you feel that? A gentle tickle across the universe's skin, a mischievous breeze that has a story to tell. Or a million of them. Each whispering tales older than the stars themselves, stories that stretch like shadows on a long summer's evening, fading and shy as they blend with the dusk.
Imagine, if you will, a place where these tales are kept, a keeper made of nebula dust and echoes of laughter long since buried. It stands between time, peeking and hiding, just at the edge of where light dares to dance with darkness. Ah, the secrets it holds, the songs it hums.
Fancy a stroll past these veils? Your feet will leave prints like comet tails blazing across a night sky—impermanent, fleeting, yet forever a part of the cosmic tale. Don't be surprised if you find songs stuck in your head long after you've turned away; echoes have a funny way of hanging on, don't they?