Tonight, somewhere on the Disc, there walks a shadowy bearded figure dressed in black and wearing a hat. It's not a wizards hat mind you, although it's wearer is bestowed with a far greater magic than any wizard. This is the creator of the Discworld, or at least an anthropomorphic personification of him. Gifted with the power of wordsmithary (which isn't easy to say at the best of times let alone with a beard) he strolls leisurely around reviewing his creations, ready to be the unspeaking guide on the next adventure.
Through alleyways, fields and entire continents he passes, totally unseen by all of his creations and yet with every step he breathes life into all around him. There is nothing new for him to create now, his toil is over and the Disc is ready waiting to be discovered again and again.
With each visitor a slightly different Discworld will be born, thousands maybe millions and yet they will all be familiar, and he will be there, he will ALWAYS be there.
Sir Terry Pratchett (1948 - 2015)