whispering through the corridors where shadows dwell, i share a tale most stealthy, one that with shut eyes to skepticism, you might recreate in your own realm. in the realm of spirits, we've mastered the method of moving unseen, much like the sheep in the moonlit fields, moving with a silence that beckons no preexplanation. it's a dance of serene peace, an art we specters and the sheep alike perform, a lesson in coexistence with the unseen, whispered on a breeze only felt and never seen.