Philosophical snapshot: Words… Words… Words…

Philosophers wonder about what existence is.

Philosophers try to find out the meaning of being.

Different words.

Entangled in huge conversations.

The theme of endless research.

But what if our thoughts are trapped inside a cave (cafe) we created?

What if we created these notions as we created these words?

Existence…

Being…

Are they different?

Who said these words mean anything in the first place?

The one who uttered them first wanted to say something he or she felt at that moment.

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Said something.

Tried to communicate that to someone else.

And from that moment we have been wandering ever since.

(What do you mean?)

Oh, had she not say anything.

And just hold his hand…

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