Once upon a time, there lived a wise librarian. He raised two remarkable children in his endless library.

One child could read at the speed of light and carried every word like constellations in his mind. The other read just as fast, but longed to step beyond those pages and see the worlds they described.

They had devoured every book, every map, every idea. Yet something was missing. Something no book could give them. So they asked their father, “We have learned everything. What is it that we still seek and cannot seem to find?”

The wise man smiled as he calmly said, “Draw me a picture of the night.”

The children ran to the great table in the hall. One began sketching furiously, reconstructing the heavens from memory. The moon, the stars, clouds, all perfectly recalled. But something felt amiss. It was just not right. The other child paused, then glanced toward the window.

They looked at each other, put down their pens, and stepped out into the night. For the first time, they saw the sky this way. The ink-black yonder stretching far beyond thought, lit by wonders no memory could contain.

Inside the library behind his humble desk, the wise librarian whispered through a faint smile:

Let there be <light>