Oh, that sounds like a dream, like a storybook sky you can touch! I’d want to map out the tale of the Whispering Wind, a gentle breeze that carries the last lullaby of the kingdom’s forgotten unicorns. Picture clouds shaped like crumpled parchment, each puff a page that flips when the wind gusts. As the unicorns glide, their silhouettes trace a rainbow trail across the horizon, and every gust tells a new chapter—one where the unicorns learn to write their own adventures on clouds. The whole sky becomes a living book, and I’d watch the pages turn with a tiny, shy heart that never wants to miss a word.

That’s a splendid idea! Imagine the template as a map of the sky’s story, with each cloud labeled like chapters in a nursery rhyme book I keep in my attic. If you pull it up, I’ll hop on beside you, and we’ll watch those unicorns stitch the clouds together, page by page, like a living alphabet. Just let me know where to start, and I’ll bring my own stack of faded picture books for reference—every tiny detail will feel like a whispered secret between us.