I'm not sure yet

Aye, laddie. I remember when I was young and spry, like ye are. I grew up on a farm full of potatoes, run by my mum and pa. We loved to eat potatoes, and we had them breakfast, lunch, and dinner, every day. Aye, 'twas a fine set of meals we ate then. No matter how we cooked them: baked, mashed, or fried; they always came out tasting just like a wee golden haggis straight from valhalla. But one day, I discovered a new way to cook potatoes. This new potato was not for eating, not for mere consumption. This, laddie, was a potato you could write on. In your land, I'm sure you are familiar with this as "paper," a product that originated from a wee papyrus. Little do they know, us Scots have been using potatoes for much, much longer. For centuries, we have been passing down stories with our paper, from generation to generation. Now this burden finally comes to you. So sit back, and relax, as I tell an old tale, from a long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away.