in a sense, we are very artifical

[dexterred]

We are man. And I am a boy. I am mass. Beneath my mass is a chair, the chair is black and hard, made of steel and it has rollers that stick. It rests on a wood floor of oak. The floor stretches out through the house, the house sits on the foundation which rests on the earth. The earth stretches out in loop that does not end. In this bubble bellow our atmosphere (we are covered in gasses) everything is connected in a very solid sense. Even the birds fly on air.

My mind, thoughts are abstract and do not be, but are. We never, it is an impossibility for things that do not exist materially to connect.



I am wishing that there was a way, if only artificially for thoughts to mingle and breed.