In a dimly lit alley tucked away from the bustling city, everybody went about their day. Inside the alley was a homeless man, with his tattered clothes and unkempt beard, he was often dismissed as just another madman ranting to himself. As he sat on a rugged mat, his gnarled fingers held a mysterious book with the title "ܟ݂ܰܒ݁ܳܐ ܕܫܶܠܡܳܐ" carved into its cover. The hobo skimmed and started to read the book, his right hand moving in a weird forward motion.

"Grgh... How the hell do ya read this...? Eh... A-Amar... baqlutha!"

At first, nothing seemed to happen. Tin cans rattled and stray cats scurried away, but he persisted, his determination unyielding. Then, with a sudden surge of energy, a tin can lifted off the ground, hovering in mid-air for a few seconds. A small feat, perhaps, but a triumph for the old man nonetheless as he had chuckle in joy. Too bad nobody saw his mystical accomplishment.