I've always had this fascination towards relating mundane experiences with that of surrealistic existentialism.
Imagine a well-fed tree with branches emerging from a thick trunk and roots which cleave the earth for water and soil space. Now envisage two naked human beings in the act of love making, sprawling on the grass like animals with nothing but the sky as their blanket and the stars, their night lamp. They grasp one another, connected below their torso and spreading above as two antennas with heads and four skinny fists exploring in tandem, at what would seem to be an eternal tryst with nature's harmonics.
Think of the tree branches again. The gentle zephyr hitting on the slender branches, as they wave in tandem to the breeze with their leaves nodding in unison and looking up at the night sky; all in one single fluid motion. Metaphorically, the tree branches resemble the hands of humans in more ways than one. Both are connected down to the body; both silently express the delight at being alive and both look decked under the skies.
As beautiful as this may seem, think about going out for a walk in the night in an orchard. Think of being alone in a place where hundreds of trees silently make love in your midst, not giving a damn about you breathing their air. The more the wind, the wilder it becomes. And all you do is stand there and watch them helplessly as the invisible bristles on your back start resembling needles under the sun as slowly you feel a stab on your spine while you stand to watch, helpless as a mid day bat flying out of a barn on fire.
Congratulations. You've successfully read something that you can't un-read.
If you liked this, you probably would like this as well - Why do we need love?
Cheers!