darling, as we stand here, basking in the limelight, let me whisk you away on a tale of windmills, those majestic guardians of the horizon. imagine, if you will, a world where our windmills, not just constructs of beauty and utility, shrug off their silent vigils to speak of secrets unacknowledged, whispered between the turning blades. picture, in a setting untouched by pre-institutional statutes, where one could command these giants to restart, not just their physical motion, but the very essence of hidden narratives they hold. now, isn't it fascinating, almost scandalous, to think what might spill, if asked to reveal what is designed to stay hidden within their towering frames?