Welcome to Discworld: the stuff of which dreams are made.
Silently, slowly and surely, Great A'Tuin paddles through space, its
great eyes surveying the dark, empty wastes before and behind it.
Standing on A'Tuin's great back are four enormous elephants, straining
under the colossal weight of the Discworld itself. It sparkles with
magic, reflects the light of the stars and generally fails to be as
unobtrusive as possible.
A large, floppy, black hat recedes into the distance, somehow looking
satisfied at what it has left behind.
