It’s strange. You don’t usually see them empty. Usually
there’s something to look at inside. A color, really, that you can’t really
describe off the top of your head. It’s the kind of thing you speak the name of
and naturally expect others to know what you’re talking about. The funny thing
is, they don’t know how to describe it either. As if hiding from their own
ignorance, they will latch onto you and your words, hoping you bear a more
illuminated view. Otherwise, they seek to hide their own ignorance from you,
for they still believe you know what you’re speaking of. It’s like a
commonly-known secret, but everyone save for yourself is in on it. Ask anyone to
describe Coke, and be bombarded by the sheer lack of actual description. Then
again, what isn’t that true for? How can you break anything down into its
basest of components and still expect to be able to describe what it is? What
is glass, when one hopes to view it as a collection of particles unimaginably
small? It stops being glass, it becomes something else entirely. This is,
perhaps, what people mean by “See the big picture.”