Noodle soup
I never feel quite secure making assumptions about other people’s metaphors.
For me a metaphor just carries meaning: if a picture tells a story of a thousand words then use a hundred words to describe a picture and you have the picture, the story and the speakers voice. What would Chinese poetry be without calligraphy: old words about the moon? The point of poetry is that You said it or I said it in some way at some time. And time is the barrier that metaphors cross. Time, Language, Distance, Bodies of skin and bone.
This is why I wonder about dreams. We wake up with these stories that we want to tell someone, convinced they have some meaning (or at least humor) or we forget them and they recede behind the screen of conscious life.
I’d like to think that the Chinese character for farting while making love is incredibly complex and subtle while the moon is just … the moon, constant and changing.
I wish we all had more time.