Thomas Kinkade Pinocchio Wishes Upon a Star

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would like to thank all the wonderful people who made this book possible. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you . .
Watch . . .
This is space. It’s sometimes called the final frontier.
(giant elephants. On their shoulders, rimmed with water, glittering under its tiny orbiting sunlet, spinning majestically around the mountains at its frozen Hub, lies the Discworld, world and mirror of worlds.
Nearly unreal.
Reality is not digital, an on-off state, but analog. Something gradualExcept that of course you can’t have a final frontier, because there’d be nothing for it to be a frontier to, but as frontiers go, it’s pretty penultimate . . .) And against the wash of stars a nebula hangs, vast and black, one red giant gleaming like the madness of gods . . . And then the gleam is seen as the glint in a giant eye and it is eclipsed by the blink of an eyelid and the darkness moves a flipper and Great A’Tuin, star turtle, swims onward through the void. On its back, four