If you ever poured milk into a boiling cup of Earl Grey tea, and saw the eggsplosion of a nuclear bomb as a brother from another mother, you now understand how worlds in cups are created. Worlds that only lasts for a split second.
Milk spread, like the nuclear bomb does, and slowly disappear into the rest of a liquid, that rest, something bigger soon will take a sip of, until it is gone.
We rage against nuclear bombs, with our hearts on the right place, no existens deserves to see its everything being destroyed in silence, with a gag tied nicely around our necks with a red bow made of silk.
It is exactly like when the one side of population argues that milk in the tea is disastrous, and shines light on everything but the proper sense of the act, the original and natural taste, not yet discussing the unnecessary use of sugar to cover up the lost human, whom never intended to drink tea, but whom intended to drink a certain kind of taste.
But those whom use milk in their tea, those whom create and see the act of an eggsplosion, may just find joy in the milk not clumping, despite the fact that it was left on the morning table for an hour too long.
The golden Earl Grey tea that no longer is golden, but has become another substance, of a brownish white-grey taste containing the dreams of cities where traditions of milk in tea is infinite.
Milk in tea is not about the gently picked and carefully farmed actual tea, it is about the bigger perspective and satisfaction created as soon as the kinderegg milksplosions has spread and caused multiple asiatic villages to get cancer, and the tea will reach the corner of your mouth, and runs through your throat and sends heat waves through the rest of your body, and the thousands of children, women and men whom also experience death as a result from the boiling wave caused by an eggsplosion of milk. The Kinderegg Milksplosion.
An experienced tea drinker drinks tea, like vikings reach the bottom of their mead.
An experienced universe eats world with unjustified and unforgiven actions, like I drink my tea.
It is gone, before it ever became a pleasure.