"Uncanny how the processes of consciousness conspire and emerge unwittingly, unknowingly and unknowably behind the scenes in the Drama of Existence now showing at the Theatre of Self," said the Novice to the Teacher, an aged and witless mendicant of dubious extraction and inherence.
"If that is what you have derived from the Teachings," responded the Aged One, imperturbably eating a banana," then you have derived nothing. For as it is written, 'ex nihilo nihil fit', so shall it be..." And on that gnomic pronouncement, the life of the Novice began swirling anti-clockwise around and down the Plug-hole of Nothingness into the Drain of Death that empties into the Wasteponds of Failed Alliteration.
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