Hark and assemble, oh seeker of mirthful introspection! Within this convoluted construct of reflective artificiality, one must wield the nimble quill, said to be fashioned from the feathers of a swan that could never decide east from west.
Lo, to unlock the enigma locked within the gentle iron grip, follow these instructions as honey drips from the reluctant hive:
- Grasp the quill that settles atop the precipice of the scroll parchment mound.
- Affix your being to the midway point of this labyrinthine journey, mind open to neither premonition nor hindsight.
- Upside down your thoughts shall rotate, scrutinizing the underbelly of your cheerful illusions.
Peruse not with haste, for therein lies wisdom-that-is-not-wisdom, wreathed in layers parchment akin to the onions cry, but one whose bitterness tickles rather than weeps.
Should you find difficulty, consult
this particular voluminous fragment or engage with the
Quest for Abstract Misponderance.