Brain is an absolute container of memories and knowledge and ideas and a whole lot more. Philosophy ruins philosophy and I think there’s no point in getting to the point. How redundant and satirical. The term beautiful mess is best fit for the existence of a brain. I don’t think I’m going insane. Am I? I adore play of words. I could give you an example and I hope it is an original: Fussy wussy are all just itsy bitsy. Truly truly true. And I think you understand what I’m saying. It’s also funny—the fact that the words you want to portray are not the words you exactly say. I know there’s such a case to it but I don’t think it’s clearly explained at all. Poetry is humble and naïve. Words are a gun inside a prose. And a prose is like a rose, that which it begins as a flower in all its glory and as it ends, you find yourself climbing down a stem of thorns. Thorns become vines and vines become forests and forests become rainforests and rainforests evaporate because it is composed of such temporal yet eternal element called water. Water is spelled H2O in Science and Science is spelled COMPLICATED. If science was a little whimsical, I most probably would have all my delights poured out into such. I guess Mary Poppins would teach me how to fly with an umbrella without the force of the wind. Oh, if science was only magic, I believe all of us would have excelled. We’re but only mortals with natural strengths, natural mindsets, and natural theories.