Most of the time, my physical interaction with the world is automated, a known set of subroutines. Then I am a little person inside my own mind stuck on a gymnasticon. Struggling away doing awefull calculations.

Once in a while something happens, rudely snapping me back to my body. The button has been pressed, there’s a disgusting mess that needs my attention.

On a rare occasion, when inspecting the disgusting mess, I see that, infact, it is beautifull.

But always, disgusting or not, it gets automated. An additional subroutine.

I’ll settle for rarely.