The thought of quality stirs. At its heart, quality is subjective to individual inclinations of value. A quality meal to a homeless man may seem little more than dirt to a man who has known the luxuries of wealth. Both may appreciate an image that evokes feeling.

Quality is most trivial when referring to material. Appreciation is easily gauged for an automobile or a mug handle. Quality of experience, however, is as loosely captured as air in our lungs.

// The sound of trees bustling in the breeze mixed with that of a distant interstate. The occasional reverberation of an exhaust pipes pierces the stillness – an inhabitant of both worlds.

Birds make noise in trees. What character they have is contingent on their notes. They blend. Mesh of sound envelops.

And sight! Color and depth. The sight of things, with sounds of things incites emotion without feeling. The Blue Sky dominates, as though we are in a room with no walls, bounded only by what we cannot see. //

What is the quality of experience but experience itself.


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