Orientation is – for the most part – something to do with where you were, where you are – and the why of those both.
The inbetween that there might perchance happenstance to be – of which there may be no specific coordinates, or recollection – is immaterial when you are where you chance upon happening to find yourself where you should.
Measuring mettle and all that black cutlery calling the crockery crooked (by way of complementing the return of the back-handed slap-compliment) is the price for piggy-backing the Sphinx in any instance.
Anybody worth their fettering knows that, particularly those who don’t know where or wheren’t they were, or weren’t, going in the first place.
