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one of the beautiful things about art is it can express without words the hundred qualia that will never have them
i was thinking about the colours of souls
they're not actually colours, they're a seventh sense that i could only begin to approximate by using one of the senses with less inherent meaning as a surrogate
there's this kind of fog of ambiguity and mystery that has to be maintained for the actual meaning not to collapse into something completely different
you know how you can destroy a deeply ambiguous work of art by telling someone very directly what it means before they've experienced it first-hand? it's like that, but for qualia, these things can be quite weak sensations