Every definition is a consequence.
Every consequence is a contribution.
Every contribution is a context.
Every context is a definition.
So what you are trying to say is
that every definition is a definition,
but I guess you wouldn’t settle
for another tautology, like the one
about love?
More words to ponder at maciejmodzelewski.com
For love, we do crazy things. For love, we change the world—or at least try to.
All that for something we cannot even clearly define, despite millennia of effort
and a plethora of adjectives added to it. The brutal truth is that Romeo and Juliet
were nothing more than oxytocin junkies (to be accurate, it is a whole cocktail
of chemicals, but you get the picture). So excuse me, but if you asked for my take
on the subject, I would say, love is the white whale in an ocean of chemically
induced despair. And yet, for one more shot at it, I will give up anything,
or something like that.
This has always been going to be a beautiful day.
After all, it gets off to a good start as we wake up
early in the morning with a cheerful disposition,
and despite your obsessing over the pumpkin seeds
I forgot to buy, breakfast is deliciously nutritious.
An uneventful day at work is nice for a change, too.
Then a quick visit to the grocery store to grab dinner.
In the evening, I close the curtains to become a hero
of all the scenes of a sexual nature enacted barefoot
on the odd pages of a yearbook I found in the attic
on the sofa you once exiled from the living room,
although oddly enough, I seem to have some difficulty
finding your pictures there. Fortunately, there is always
a mirror that we bought for our last birthday.
hidden pilcrow 