My tea is not your tea. My tea, from the same teapot as yours is not the same as your tea. Steeped together and poured in quick succession in a small cup, warmed to the same temperature, it seems the same. The scent, colour, the steam from the surface making the exact same curl in the still air; and we drink the same sip at the same time; and we even have the same number of taste buds on our tongues. When it sits in our stomachs and we digest, we think and then we speak about the tea, we use different words.
Something I’ve been watching
In Carol & the end of the world said world is about to end because of a mystery planet that’s hurtling towards Earth. In a group of mostly pleasure-seekers, there is one woman, Carol, who is always anxious and stands out from the rest. While most people are freely indulging in their desires, she’s reluctant to give up her mundane tasks.
I really like the premise, so I’m curious to see where this will go. But I already identify with Carol, because hedonism wouldn’t be my choice either.
To me this is a metaphor for how different we are from one another even though we partake of the same things, this case being tea. Just my interpretation fwiw.
I love this.