They bring great flavor to your life, but adds nothing to it. It's an empty, predictably monolithic sort of flavor, like the taste of soy ice cream with a foreign layer of sweetness tangentially floating above it. There is no link, no connection. And you end up making do with this unwelcome stranger since you literally asked to have it.
:::
Some things in life are like honey. They are so wonderfully dainty or quirky that the only thing plain about them is they are different - from the delicate white sage with an elegant floral aftertaste to the strong zest in basswood that turns minty when mixed with mild honey.
Easy to find and not hard to get, but only if the eye is trained to not be distracted by pomp vacant within. Takes you on an unfamiliar kind of high that doesn't really end. Instead, you sit on a new baseline of delight, a new level of norm for your life.
And the best part is, sometimes they can be found in some people and certain friendships.
The fact that there are so many counterfeits and substandard versions of these things only affirms the overwhelming delight of the latter.
So the wonder at its daintiness and quirkiness remains, and the best part remains best, that sometimes they can be found in some people and certain friendships.
