Shadows aren’t what you think. Trust me, I’m the only being without one. That’s why the guard keeps me here, a prisoner of sorts, in this strange cosmic kitchen.
Let me explain. On these shelves are many jars, ingredients so to speak. I have another shelf lined with recipe books. I’m currently making a dish which the guard will collect at the appointed time.
Last night’s order was made for a blue planet, the third orb from its yellow sun. It was a comet set to burn brightly in the night sky. It required specialist ingredients that I had delivered to me. Today I am making a replacement sun for a galaxy flickering slowly towards darkness. My worktop is dusted with moonglow and the leftovers of a supernova I baked this morning.
My primary job is to make light. Only I can do this because I am not subject to it. Remember I said that shadows aren’t what you think? We all know that without light there can be no shadows, but there’s more to it than that. Shadows are the portals the dead use to peer into the realms of the living. Without them, souls would weep in eternal darkness. Excuse me, the guard is knocking at the door.