I come to a fork in the road and wonder which way I will be pulled, like I'm a flimsy piece of metal waiting to be magnetized. And what even, is that magnetism? Have my footsteps walked this path before and will they walk it again in my lifetime of eternal-recurrence? Am I spinning round like a mouse on its wheel, waiting for the next experiment to be conducted. Who is the scientist? Am I the experimenter or experimentee? Before the thought snowballs I swill the ice around in my coffee, suck on the straw and feel the sugar syrup find my tongue. A sweet sensation. Is that all life is? An elaborate fun-house, a sweet sensation. Does the mind use the experience of sensations as a drug that gets the imagination so high that it has manifested a material world? All the textures, black holes, planetary systems, pleasures, language devices, love, war, all reduced to a bud on the side of my tongue and a sweet sensation deep in my throat. They say we live in a Fools Paradise, well, if I'm a fool and this is my paradise - it tastes sweet.