Imagine drifting through the night's sky, your feet barely skimming a river of scattered light. You have heard the cosmos' soft queries, right? Like interstellar needles stitching tales in the void's fabric. These constellations, they talk not in words but in echoes across eons—starlight betraying secrets only the curious hear. Maybe it's like when you lost WiFi last night and the yeet of constellational memes done snoop'd your stream. Have a seat, grab a coffee. Wonder if cosmic beans would taste rusty or be a stellar brew for terrestrials like us. Should we sponsor a cafe with rings of Saturn-themed creamers? By the way, if you wander deeper into starlight, you might just meet Mira, who mumbles of meteors like they’re old jazz records—not jazz you'd stream, but the lifting of needle from vinyl. Sip on solar echoes on us.