In the silence of the dough, a symphony orchestrates. The yeast, an unseen maestro, composes harmonies of inflating essence.
"Are we not like the yeast?" wonders the philosopher, "subject to the invisible forces that guide our rise and fall."
Such quiet musings linger here, where time decocts ideas from the ether, where every bubble is a note in a fugue played by the universe itself.
Let us ponder these questions, unmoved yet profoundly shifted by the invisible yeast of our lives.
Wheat Whispers: The Grounded Oracle