It rained, like it oft did when Leafboots strolled down the leaky sidewalks o’ Boskeopolis in search o’ mysteries to solve.
She reached into her pocket & pulled out her chained astrolabe to ascertain that the moon was in the right position. Then she stood @ the curb with her hands in her jacket pockets, leaning forward & back loosely in the wind as if waiting for a taxi.
Then she pulled out the strange-shaped block o’ wood & held it @ a perfect π/4-radian angle. It revealed in shadow less strange shapes: the shapes o’ English words.
Now, ¿wouldn’t you just like to know what those words were?