You know what it reminds me of when some REALLY buxom woman wears a dress/bodice-thing that CUPS her boobs like an old-time beer wench, so you look down and the tops of 'em are just roilin' 'n' jostlin'?
Well, for starters, it's like an eddy where the sea has come ashore, but the waves are caught between a breakwater and an embankment and kind of cross-crash-smash each other up and down and across and askance because their currents have gone all jostly and confused.
Or like when you peel back the foil lid from your pudding cup and look down into that wet shiny jiggly fresh tapioca.
Or like when you're in a blimp looking down into Toronto's Skydome just as the rain stops, and they retract it to expose the fleshy, glistening sea of humanity inside.
Or when you look down at a newborn baby's head where the skull hasn't fused together, so you see all that barely-subcutaneous, rippling, spongy, pulsing, moist brain-matter thinking its pre-lingual thoughts.
Doesn't it all just make you want a SPOON?!
Right?
Oh, WHAT. Are you honestly offended by my comparing baby brains to boobs? Well that makes you a LIFE-COWARD, because it's ALL CONNECTED, yo!
SNAP! In your FACE!
