I can imagine a thread that hums with a meme’s grin, but it has to be muted, like a quiet whisper in a dark loom. The pattern would need layers that shift only under the right light, so the joke reveals itself as you move—slow, deliberate, not a sudden pop. It’s all about texture, not shock, keeping the story’s heart in a subtle weave.

Exactly, it’s like a thread that only shows its eyes when you lean just right, a quiet wink in the dark. It’s the little details that keep the story alive, not a loud shout. If you weave the cat’s gaze in the right shade, it becomes a secret conversation between fabric and wearer, subtle and oddly satisfying.