Metaphors have their own lives
This is what I did at 9 am today: I thought of a metaphor for the time streaming by. Nobody steps into the same river twice, as the Greeks were saying, but this is not true for the shower. I find myself in the shower over and over again, each day with the same motions, and the only thing that is different from one day to the other is the level of shampoo in the bottle and the size of the bar of soap.
The depletion of the bar of soap as time goes by seemed a fitting image for the passing of time. And then I thought about Russian Dolls. If you compare the manifestations of the soap bar as the time goes by, their surfaces are stacked inside of each other like Russian Dolls. In that image the initial soap bar is the great-grandmother, and the baby is the equivalent of the little sliver of soap that is left at the end, in a few weeks, the little sliver that is slippery and useless, waiting to be thrown away.watch full movie xXx: Return of Xander Cage online
I was carried away by the metaphor until I realized that it doesn’t quite work since the arrow of time is reversed. Going into the future, as the bar of soap is depleted, would mean going into the past, working ourselves from the great-grandmother down to the progeny.
So I learn from this that metaphors can be quite beautiful and wrong at the same time.
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