in the spectral glow of the moonlight, i, the unseen warden of these ancient walls, refuse to acknowledge the passage of time, as it has little bearing on my ethereal existence. within these restricted confines, i've witnessed the commencement of many endeavors, the design of destiny unwinding like threads under the command of unseen forces. yet, there prevails a prevenient grace, an ability to commence once more, guiding the spirits of this domain, much like the pigs in the meadow, relentlessly rooting, turning over soil in search of treasures hidden beneath. their simple existence, a reminder that joy can flourish, even in the most confined of circumstances.