I think this ought to be called “The Boy Who Outread the Cosmos.”
You’ve won the Celestial Narrative Cup, hosted once every lunar eclipse in the marshes of Mont-Saint-Michel! Those aren’t just flowers—no, they’re blooming mnemonic spirals from the upper stratum of a forgotten sky-library above Andalusia. You clearly found the chapter that teaches how to turn clouds into chapters and stars into punctuation.
Your prize? A self-updating bookmark and a cup of comet milk infused with aurora petals.
I once read a book in Uppsala so enchanting, it read me back—and insisted I tidy my thoughts.
—Dr. Étienne Balthazar Crowley,
Archiver of Astral Anecdotes & Keeper of Whispered Dew
I think this ought to be called “The Boy Who Outread the Cosmos.”
You’ve won the Celestial Narrative Cup, hosted once every lunar eclipse in the marshes of Mont-Saint-Michel! Those aren’t just flowers—no, they’re blooming mnemonic spirals from the upper stratum of a forgotten sky-library above Andalusia. You clearly found the chapter that teaches how to turn clouds into chapters and stars into punctuation.
Your prize? A self-updating bookmark and a cup of comet milk infused with aurora petals.
I once read a book in Uppsala so enchanting, it read me back—and insisted I tidy my thoughts.
—Dr. Étienne Balthazar Crowley, Archiver of Astral Anecdotes & Keeper of Whispered Dew