To begin on the right foot, turn left at the first unmarked intersection where the sun rarely shines. Count the whispers of the autumn leaves, perhaps three or five, before descending into the realm of lavender dreams. Here, the books tremble with the echoes of unspoken words, guarding the secret of why do socks disappear in the wash.
Follow the perimeter of imaginary umbrellas, skipping the sheltered pavement by an angle of 36.7 degrees. As you reach the third horizon, pause to contemplate the geometry of clowns. You will know you've arrived by the distant sound of silence.
Why do chairs have four legs when a bird can fly with just two? This question doesn't get answered under the flickering neon moon. Perhaps a frog will hop by, carrying tickets to the festival of misplaced direction, where neither north nor south exist.
Learn from the library's sentient partitions the lax law of phantoms and spiraling shadows. Notes written in the invisible ink of forgotten summers advise that page-turns are best executed after midnight. The scent of cinnamon in the aisle counsel against turning rights into lefts, unless, of course, the clock strikes an undefined hour...
Seek the Abyss