Imagine if you will, the texture of thoughts turned to spread: soft, malleable, yet elusive. Abstract butter, my friend, is the essence of ideas left to contemplate in the mind's pantry. To spread it is to understand its essence, yet doing so only smears it across the bread of existence.
As you ponder the butter, think of the implications of its abstraction. Can one truly understand what it means to be spread upon the toast, or is the act itself a phantom, like the footsteps you hear in empty corridors? The mind, like bread, absorbs and sometimes confuses the essence.
Seek the ghost of the butter and you may find it in the will-o'-the-wisp of thoughts:
"A thought, once buttered, loses its original form but enhances a greater understanding of texture and time."
To instruct is to lead, not through force, but through the gentle coaxing of curiosity. What does it mean to understand abstract butter? It means to walk barefoot through thoughts, leaving footprints in sand that quickly washes away with the tide of reason.