The Dry was not made to last. That’s why the people who live here decided to make it last anyway.

There are no promises. There are no blueprints. And if you’re looking for someone in charge, you’ve already started wrong.

Things work because someone broke them yesterday, and someone else put them back together today—worse, but functional.

Breaking systems doesn’t make you special here. Thinking it does makes you unbearable.

Magic exists, but it isn’t free. Digimon help, but they are not your pets. And if you try to give orders, be ready to end up talking to yourself.

The Dry still stands because no one knows everything, and, honestly, no one wants to carry that weight.

If you can live with mistakes, stay. If not… well. The desert is vast.