Potato applesauce, a contradiction in itself, yet it is life. The stereotypical assumption and expectations of what life is and should be, and then the revealing of what life turns out to be. Not a golden apple or perfect world, where everyone is friendly and unselfish. That world is applesauce. Yet the world is not applesauce. The world is rough, dark, full of pretenders and haters, and seeking only their own happiness. It is false and fake, the deep truth, hidden and shielded in green mist. The world is potato. But we still are apt to return to the idea of the applesauce, and dwell on it for some time, like we might admire a painting. We think "wouldn't it be nice if I could be like that" whether it's having a magical sugary life, or being able to create an image of monkeys. We always like to look at the applesauce and it is pretty to us.
Thus, is it so hard to conceive, that the world is potato applesauce?
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