A word to the wise
Where should I begin? Or maybe it is not the matter of where but when rather. You see, for myself, I have not been, if I ever was myself in the past. Nor could I justify that I am in fact, myself, presently as I am, as I present myself to you. Ardent as I evidently am not, in my arduous adventure, I found the littlest of bounties to be the most cherished and of the value most highest among my humble possessions. These insignificant little seedlings of humility, utterly ignored by those who deemed themselves more masterful than life, more convincing than death, if ever death need any convincing, are the very diamonds that cuts through stone. Stone, being the marble crown of arrogance. Stone, being the obsidian mask of ignorance. Magic beans, they are, very much so alike those of Jack's. For with them, giants, he slew and with it, the witless peasant that I am, is transformed into a slayer of colossal egos. Much to the my own chagrin, for I have spared my own, the very consuming fiery wrath that laid waste to monolithic intellectual gibberish. For there are many types of fools among us, though none more self-deceiving, entertainingly so, and tastier to crush and grind beneath the weight of simple logic and a dash of sarcasm, than the intellectual fool. Well, here is one writing to you, cooking up a storm of words. And what a savoury dish it is! Half-baked "facts" fresh from the oven, peppered with puny panache and flavoured prejudices on the side. When fools have decided it is their right to be right, I can only wonder what's left for the wise. For wisdom is about putting the right things at the right place. We will be none the wiser, otherwise.