It’s funny because I realized this after witnessing my boyfriend’s maguro habit. We go to the same sushi bar regularly and he always gets that. Good old rice, fish (not very pink, not very red), and wasabi. He sits there, talks a bit, finishes it, and he’s done. He also has this thing with coffee. He likes his Americano with cold water, no ice. How can one be so sure about what they like? How can one be so sophisticated yet so simple?
Some days, I am drawn towards admiring the barest things. However, I tend to swoon over them some more once I learn about the complexity behind them. Knowing that there is something so intricate and complex behind something that’s seemingly simple.
There is a grey area between sophistication and simplicity. I can’t point a finger at it but it makes me feel. It stirs me in a particular way. That there is a process to perfect simplicity. To be simple, you need to know more. To know better. Whether it’s just for a cup of coffee or an essay on criminal justice.
They say when you are loud, your brain seems empty – just slurring out words hoping to hit the right ideas like throwing arrows on shelves of water balloons. They say when you can’t simplify something complex, you don’t really know anything about the matter. In truth, I think that sophistication has a final end – simplicity. When things are simple, it’s because there is reconciliation with complexity.