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Amy the Waitress

I finally arrived at the Manchester, New Hampshire airport around nine at night. We fly in there because it takes less time to get to my grandparents house in a Boston suburb from Manchester than it does from the Boston airport. Traffic and all that.

We were supposed to get there at five, but there was so much snow in Manchester that we had to divert to Boston, wait for the snow to pass, and then return to Manchester.

I actually like the delay, though. I love everything about traveling, including being stuck on a plane doing nothing. There's something very pleasant about being totally isolated from the rest of the world.

Mujer sin analogia

On Sui Generis

It happened when me and my friends were gathering around our campus' plaza. We're joking around, talking about stuffs, without any burden over our shoulders. The topics? Varied. One of them was analogy. Without any scientific objective, we just simply gave our perspective about each other. We share about how we look on each other, metaphorically. But, it has a very different essence for me.

But first, do you know what's the epistemological definition of 'analogy'? It's an action of transferring a system of meaning from one subject to another, aiming to give an illustration about similarity of one's working system with the target. So, in a nutshell, a thing was being compared with another thing. The goal? Just to make sure the audience understand the mechanism of some thing by comparing it with something (usually) more simple. You could read Tommaso Cajetan or Keith Holyoak's works for further reference.

Back to the main topic, our talks wasn't just about analogy, it's about feelings. It's not only about subjective opinion, but personal will. My willingness to let my friends know what I felt about them, what I knew about them. For some, it might only means a sarcastic joke. A material to make people laugh, increasing hope, and exchanging implicit matters but only from eye gaze, lip movements, and other indicators of body language. But not for me. Not for her.

I described one of my friend as a bag. A person who can accept each materials we bring and just simply kept it for herself. She will only reveal what's inside if we carefully open the right zip. We carry our bag all over the world, while meeting new people, experiencing new adventure, breathing, growing up. That's what she meant for me. But, as you know, ironically even though a bag is indeed very useful, it could be easily damaged. When you pull the zip too hard, when you didn't protect it from raining, when dust cover up its surface, or any unexpected actions took part, your bag will eventually become obsolete. I gave all my friend that kind of analogy. But there's one woman, that one-significant-woman, that I didn't receive any.

She's the woman without analogy, mujer sin analogia.

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