Oh you don’t want to know exactly how many pubes your grandmother shed in her lifetime? You don’t care to know what the sewage of tasted like in London on Sunday, the 16th of July 1882? You don’t burn with desire to learn what it feels like to get your viscera torn out by a hungry lion?
I dunno. You’d know exactly what it looks and smells like too, and what it’d feel like on your tongue. Depends on how vivid your imagination is.
I can’t visualise things, but when people ask me to “visualise an apple” I can feel the waxy exterior, the crispness (or gumminess of an old apple), the slightly floral scent before you bite into it, what it sounds like, etc.
Can’t fucking visualise it to save my life though.
Oh you don’t want to know exactly how many pubes your grandmother shed in her lifetime? You don’t care to know what the sewage of tasted like in London on Sunday, the 16th of July 1882? You don’t burn with desire to learn what it feels like to get your viscera torn out by a hungry lion?
Weak!
A few million. Nasty, with hints of corn and bean. Painful and, oddly, quite exhilarating. Knowing doesn’t equate to experiencing.
I dunno. You’d know exactly what it looks and smells like too, and what it’d feel like on your tongue. Depends on how vivid your imagination is.
I can’t visualise things, but when people ask me to “visualise an apple” I can feel the waxy exterior, the crispness (or gumminess of an old apple), the slightly floral scent before you bite into it, what it sounds like, etc.
Can’t fucking visualise it to save my life though.
Man i could just browse weird facts in my brain all day. Hurry Satan my soul is waiting!