This series of utterances epitomizes the master's folly, but at the same time, there's a vestige of truth here too. The master is invariably drawn to things he can't comprehend, and in this respect he's be no means unique. The incomprehensible commands respect. Failure to fathom conjures up, somehow, a sense of the sublime. For this very reason, while laymen are wont to expound on things they don't understand, feigning some level of proficiency, learned scholars are wont to pepper their lectures with obfuscation. In university lecture halls, incomprehensible expositions are duly revered, while straightforward explanations are dimissed as uninspired. The master's admiration for this prose lies not in it's clarity of purpose. It's objective, in fact, is a complete mystery. The out-of-the-blue introduction of sea slugs and ephemeral excrement only add to its mystique. The sole reason the master holds this prose in high regard is that he can't comprehend it. Just as disciples of Lao Tzu can't comprehend the Tao Te Ching, Confucianists can't comprehend the Book of Changes, and Zen priests can't comprehend the Rinzairoku analects. However, for the sake of appearance if nothing else, all are compelled to contrive and attach some slight sense of meaning. Revering the incomprehensible, while connecting significance to it, is an endless source of intellectual delight. -- The master carefully returns this finely-crafted writing to its envelope, sets it on his desk, places his hands in his pockets, and sinks into quiet contemplation.
"Hello there! Anyone home?" A loud voice calls out from the entryway, requesting admittance. It would seem to be Meitei, but when has Meitei ever requested admittance? The master in his study hears the calls, yet stirs not in the least. His hands remain in his pockets. It's not his role to go and receive callers, and he's never once answered a caller from his place in study. The maidservant is out buying laundry soap. The wife is in the privy. The role of receiving callers defaults to yours truly, who chooses not to oblige. The caller finally steps up into the house and resolutely opens the shōji. The master acts the master, and the caller acts the caller. There are sounds from the parlor as several fusuma are slid open and slid shut before the caller turns to the study.