In the unreal
It is said that in time past, when it was still unreal, the sky was always blue and the grass always green. An incomplete magician once plucked a monkey’s hair while wanting to craft a figurine off the sky and burnt the entire grass. In anger, an old sage from the strata of mystic, disfigured the sky, with clouds. The magician learnt his lesson the hard way, for he then could only see the invisible.
Of course, this is the word on the streets, don’t hold me to this story.