The simple part of the complex allows us to hold complexity in our hand. (Some find this to be a metaphor for apples and poems.) To escape the complex, this is what you need to understand. Comfortable warmth. Cold is when my body and my surroundings are at odds. How will I avoid being cold when I die? I imagine individuals imitating slender gods or making their voices sound like poetry, but that doesn't get me anywhere. If my goal is to feel no pain at all when I die, then I must contemplate this: will the complex, the 'everything,' refuse to let me go? Maybe dying is not as simple as we think. If I'm part of the complexity, will I feel cold when death compels me to remove myself from it? To contemplate a painful immortality is probably not something I should do except that you're the reader and I must obey you. All you think about is immortality. You're exactly like me. You know the soul is curiosity. Don't pretend you mind my morbidity. The body wants to be comfortable and warm whichever way it happens, or in whatever form.
