There once was a man. The man lived in the room. In the room was a table. On the table was a bowl. In the bowl were some pine needles.
The man picked up the pine needles and hoping to create a woven circle of needles, he began.
First he formed a small ring by knotting one of the needles into a loop.
The loop broke repeatedly and although the man was annoyed with the pine needles, he carried on.
Next he took several needles and tied them together with cotton, hoping that it would form a solid scaffold, so that when the weaving was finished, he would be able to cut away the cotton thread, leaving the woven structure intact.
Well, that didn't work. And now he was really pissed off.
After numerous fruitless attempts lasting the best part of two hours, he managed to form the needles into a roughly cyclical shape, far from the sublime vision he had begun with.
It was a bit pants, but time was of the essence and the result was just about adequate.
This is one of those all-encompassing metaphors for life which serves to highlight the feeling of numbing inevitability we all experience from time to time.
OH, HANG ON! THAT'S NOT A METAPHOR! THAT'S WHAT ACTUALLY HAPPENED!
OH GOD! WHAT AM I DOING WITH MY LIFE?"
you are making small rings out of pine needles
loser
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