♫ Colorless Green Ideas Sleep Furiously (Pt. 2)
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I enter the hallway. It’s the one with the carpet. Well, that’s not going to stop me. With a quick yank, I flip the carpet aside, and there it is, just as I suspected, a few steps ahead: a deep pit with sharpened stakes jutting up from the bottom. Staying true to my principle of not taking anything personally, I shrug with a smile, get a running start to leap across, and continue my journey with a light heart.
♫ Tryggur vinur ♫
I enter the corridor, crouching under the swinging, rotating saw blades at neck height. Beyond them, I wait: The zombies can come!
♫ Lögmál ♫
I enter the corridor. Ever since gravity went haywire, the first thing I do is check whether I’d survive a fall upward to the floor.
♫ Vofa ♫
I enter the corridor. This place is haunted, I’ve heard visitors say. Nonsense! In all these three centuries, I have never encountered a ghost.
♫ Seqtlaune ♫
I enter the corridor as a childlike believer, convert—having grown uncertain—to a youthful agnostic a few steps past the threshold, and finally traverse it as an adult possibilianist, a discoverer of possibilities, so to speak, open to (and curious about) whatever may be hidden behind its doors, and as whomever I will be when I leave it—in the end, perhaps even a mystic?
(This life story in a single sentence may seem all too condensed to you, but believe me, the seed has already been planted in your mind without you even noticing.)
♫ Skakkt númer! ♫
I enter the corridor? Well, think again! It’s not even my turn.