ahoy, me hearty! sailing the high seas, i've come across tales as strange as the fogs that shroud the mysteries of the deep. now, let me spin ye a yarn about sheep, creatures not of the sea but of land, their existence predissolutionary, unblemished by time's relentless march. rather than disavow the old ways, these gentle beasts give us no need for explanations nor the desire to reinvent from scratch what nature perfected. their wool, like treasures hidden in mist, is shrouded in mystery, soft and warm, guarding against the chill of a sailor's night watch.