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Water does not respond well to speed.
The man who jumps from a very high place and looks for a soft landing in water is in for a rude awakening. The greater the speed, the harder and more unforgiving water becomes. From a great height, the man might as well land on a concrete pavement. Water does not compress very well.
And yet, when not badgered by high speeds and suicidal men, water is a forgiving and nourishing god. It fits everything, welcomes everything, and is softer than angora. It waits without waiting for whatever function may be called for. Anthropomorphically, its patience is endless. Calling water "patient" is idiotic, but words only reach so far.
Like zero, water fits with any other number, any other guest, and gives it enhanced meaning ... and yet alone, its nature is purely bupkus.
Bupkus ... just like everything else. Waiting, patient, according with circumstances, peaceful and yet wily from the point of view of 'others' who praise or blame or attempt to manipulate it, snuggle with it, explain or embrace it. Water does not play the 'other' game... nor does anything else. Meaning is a pastime for second-graders and water does not indulge in silly games. Second-graders are welcome to play in its shallows ... welcome, welcome!
But water, like everything else, is sui generis.
Which is to say no generis.
And yet some generis.
The generis is up to you.
Water doesn't mind.
Why should you?
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