There’s a parable here about the human soul and representational cognition. We are attracted to representations, but as we all can clearly see… a book is not a butterfly. Yet a butterfly climbed a book, to find a place to fulfill its form and nature.

Unfortunately, our situation is a bit worse. We are born as fliers, but our exposure to representational thought is so crude and debilitating, that it mostly deprives us of the opportunity. We do not see as or with our minds or being; we see with words and concepts, and are thus deprived of our wings and eyes by the cultural faculties claiming to deliver and complete them.

If we do not realize we are born to fly; books may deliver the opposite of wings. Dead comparisons in language, fictional frames of abstract knowledge that is missing ‘most of its living body’.