Once upon a very sparkly afternoon, a white tiger discovered that chasing sunbeams was overrated and decided to learn the harp instead. Not a small harp. A dramatic, glowing, gold-trimmed harp that absolutely demanded an audience.With paws far too large for delicate instruments (or so the critics said), the tiger ignored the haters and plucked anyway. Each string released a soft twang of glitter, floating through the air like musical dust. Birds stopped mid-flight. Time politely waited its turn. Somewhere in the distance, someone whispered, “Is… is that a tiger playing classical music?” The tiger didn’t answer. Artists never do mid-performance. Bathed in golden light and surrounded by sparkles he definitely did not ask for.
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