At the end of a serious bit of incisive self-reflection about tensions between intellect and psychology, Winnie expressed some passing concern with where the post ends up.
Hope it was not too weird reading a snapshot of my psyche and then seeing a photo of an egg sandwich. I guess that sums me up nicely.
We are none of us ever just one thing, and any moments that might themselves tend toward such as few and far between. We are all both convoluted psyches and simple egg sandwiches, and there’s nothing in that from which we should run.
The only real problem Winnie presents here is that now I’d very much like an egg sandwich while not actually having one at hand.