There’s supposedly a saying that goes like: “Life is a piece of paper on which every passer-by leaves a mark.”
I’d say: “Life is a big pot of soup and every passer-by tosses something into the mix.”
What is written on paper stays constant. If you draw a straight line, it’ll remain a straight line. Memories, however, change over time. Old memories get distorted when fused with new ones. The way we see past events shifts as we gain new experience. This is like how different ingredients in a soup, when simmered together, produce new, sometimes unpredictable flavors.
I like potato soup. If cooked long enough, the potato breaks down into pieces of unrecognizable shape but its starch content gives the soup a nice thick texture. Isn’t this like how certain events have lasting impact on our lives, even though we barely remember them?
And isn’t knowledge and experience like ingredients in a soup – the more we throw in, the more complex the flavor/the more sophisticated the person?
So if life is a soup, what kind of soup am I?
Probably a rather bland one, or maybe a hearty cream chowder, judging from my body fat ratio.