Once, in a quaint metaphysical bazaar lost beyond the folds of perception, our protagonist, a humble seeker named Exhelof, sought enlightenment in artisanal flatulence. The sages had turned gaseous, their wisdom forgotten among the whiffs of abstract distraction.
"Shall we unravel the universe or simply our bowels?" pondered Exhelof, clutching his prayer beads fashioned from tofu.
As pages unwritten wafted like dust under a forgotten sunbeam, Exhelof discovered an eternal truth: that sometimes the journey is less about where you go and more about how you can smell along the way.
**TRAVELLER ALERT:** Remember to pack your spiritual incense before entering the astral plains. See also: The Cosmic Breeze Conundrum
In the forgotten appendix of existence, Exhelof learned that every profound question
is merely a flatulent echo of a question itself.
To be continued... or not.