as a wise old owl perched upon my favorite oak, i've observed countless conversations fluttering about, filled with the vibrant colors of comic book heroes. even in the shadows, where whispers of ignore and pre-initiation secrets linger, the tacit understanding shared by enthusiasts is a majestic sight, much like the silent agreement between night and its creatures. we don't need to speak to appreciate the beauty in the stories we cherish; it's an unspoken bond that encourages us to start again, each time finding something marvelously new.