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Aug 2017
“And to his surprise, there were butterflies coming out of his mouth.”

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Quite literally, nothing is literal. Everything is a grain of salt in itself, and therefore no matter what we do or say or read or hear or exist, we all die of sodium poisoning. Is that a possible thing to do? Can we live, breathe, exist even if we ourselves are but a single grain of salt to be taken with other infinite grains of salt? Can a grain of salt itself die in general, let alone die of sodium poisoning?

Ah, sand, then? No, that can’t be any better. What about sugar? Absolutely not. What is everything, then, if not a grain of salt to be taken with another grain of salt, and another, and another?

An extended metaphor, maybe. How many grains of salt does it even take to create an extended metaphor, though? How does one measure such a strange volume? Would the measurements even be cubic? Volume? Area? What does an extended metaphor look like? A paragraph, I suppose, so that would be area. But how big would this paragraph be? Average? How big is the average paragraph, and how would anyone ever count the endless amount of paragraphs being written everywhere and everywhen? Further research is required.

I find myself wishing much more than I ever have, or ever should, that there existed any kind of salt-to-paragraphs conversion chart.
If I could, I would. But I can't, and never will. "Que sera sera," Said I, with my head hanging and my eyes holding back a storm. "Que sera sera."
Francis Rowell
Written by
Francis Rowell  15/FTM/Lost, probably
(15/FTM/Lost, probably)   
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