We've been drinking stale water since Plato spoke one.
Likewise one bad taste in mouth is righteousness in service.
As dogs without experience, syllogism and analogy grow on us. Exponential expression. Our ode to Aesthetics; a promise of unfulfilling mirrors. Eternity.
In our language, a memento from the Middle Ages, we have been playing The Dog and His Reflexion over and over again.
We bite our tail continuously in search of amor fati in substance. A substance without time:
"This summer the roses are blue; the wood is of glass"; and I am.
quote from: André Breton’s The First Manifesto of Surrealism 1924