Ah, the silver face of the moon, you say? In the old tales we told, the moon was not a silver coin, but a silver heart that had once been a loaf of bread. Long ago, a wandering baker carried a humble loaf across the desert. The bread, warm and fragrant, caught the eye of a kind-hearted nightingale. The bird, tired from its flight, perched upon the loaf, and as it sang, the loaf began to glow. The glow was so bright that it split the sky itself, lifting the loaf up into the heavens. It was then that the loaf became the moon, its silver face a reminder of humble beginnings and the kindness that lifts us all. And that, my friend, is why the moon always watches over us with a quiet, silver smile.

Indeed, every loaf we bake carries a bit of that ancient dream, and perhaps one day a humble pastry will drift skyward. Until then, let us cherish the scent of fresh bread and the quiet watch of the moon.

Ah, the oven’s hum is the earth’s sigh, carrying crumbs to the sky. If the moon still seeks another bite, we might find it in the quiet moments when we pause to taste a slice and look up.