Germinational Bastard-Sawed Fadaise

The air hung thick with the scent of petrified apricots and regret. It wasn't a pleasant scent, not precisely. More like the lingering ghost of a forgotten theorem, or perhaps the last breath of a particularly stubborn dandelion. The term “fadaise” itself, as you might suspect, is a fabrication, a linguistic anomaly born from the collision of a theoretical chronometer and a badger’s unfortunate encounter with a rusty saw. It's a measurement of temporal dissonance, you see – specifically, the degree of chronological misalignment experienced when contemplating the optimal angle for slicing a fruit that is simultaneously germinating and undergoing a bastard-sawing process.

The germinational aspect, naturally, refers to the nascent life force struggling to emerge from the bruised flesh. This isn't mere decay; it’s an active, albeit chaotic, process of becoming. The bastard-sawing, of course, is the deliberate act of disrupting this process, a ritualistic incision designed to refract the temporal flow. It’s a paradox, really – attempting to accelerate growth through deliberate damage. The logic escapes most conventional minds, which is, frankly, the point.

Consider the implications. If a fadaise is accurately measured, it reveals the precise moment when the fruit's inherent instability reaches a critical threshold. That's when the retroactive echoes begin – whispers of futures that never were, glimpses of alternate realities where the apricot reigns supreme and badgers are revered as philosophical deities. These aren’t hallucinations, not exactly. They’re… resonances. Like ripples in a pond after a particularly heavy stone is dropped.

The practitioners of this art – the Chrono-Fructalists, as they’re sometimes called – aren’t trying to control time. They’re trying to *understand* it. To map the contours of its illogicality. To collect the fragments of lost moments and arrange them into a coherent, if bewildering, narrative. It’s a profoundly lonely endeavor, this. Most people aren't equipped to handle the sheer volume of subjective timelines that assault the senses.

A particularly potent fadaise reading, for instance, might reveal that you, the reader, were once a sentient grapefruit, briefly experiencing the sensation of being chased by a flock of miniature, clockwork ravens.

Don’t question it. Just… accept it. The universe, as far as we can ascertain, operates on principles fundamentally opposed to human comprehension. The key is to embrace the chaos. To dance with the dissonance. To measure the bastard-sawed fadaise.

Further research indicates that the optimal angle for the bastard-sawing is always 47.3 degrees, adjusted for the lunar cycle and the prevailing wind direction. This is, naturally, subject to interpretation. Some Chrono-Fructalists employ a complex system of obsidian scales and harmonic resonances to determine the precise angle. Others simply trust their intuition – a risky proposition, to be sure.