You start to count down all the ways in which experience can be simulated. And, you begin to think that there is a comfort you cannot find there <insert so-called artifice>.
But, then you are touched, and your senses falter. You cannot smell the thing, yet I could string together a set of triggers for you.
Scent, your strongest memories.
Perform in that way.
Because, we are just a configuration of gestures.
A family of learned.
What was convenience food, but one of the first? <a mark, although rhetorical>
A box of approximations that simulated a homemade something they once knew, but could not be troubled to nourish themselves with now.
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