Basic.

By about the third day, the cold starts to feel normal.
While I marvel at the mysterious human capacity for adjustment, I also find myself reflecting on the fact that we can get used to things we shouldn't get used to.
I ponder the limits of the fundamental abilities humans possess, contemplate whether our basic functional performance is truly suited to the people using it, and wonder if that means the task of creating things should be based on adapting to people, or if production should be structured while taking human living standards as the general baseline.
During a brief break, I seriously try to rationalize the mysterious vehicle—a bicycle—that sits before me, rehearsing for that final checkmate.
But I wonder if such study is even effective in a world that always seems to want to distort things.
In the midst of this obscure deep thought, when I ask myself what I actually believe in, I find nothing to believe in, and if the extremely basic idea is that it's wisest to just go with the flow, then I say: first, try to understand what "basic" really is.
The answer I've come up with, wanting to know such basics, is always fluid—just to enjoy it, just to do it right.





Desalvo
Custom Road
very basic idea needs experiences special.
Creating basic things within a basic sensibility.
Is the source of everything experience, or mutation?
To know that, you must think, or feel.
Perhaps there is no truth or moral to be found in the depths of history.
Maybe there is only a little spice there to help us find the essence of the basic.
And while feeling the happiness of having the spare time to sluggishly read such a pointless long-winded text, in the end, does nothing change as we continue to exist within a strictly unstable axis of time?
kyutai