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A mind is like a reimagined muscle — doesn’t tear when judged — because it’s already a manifold with holes, built to stretch, to breathe, to let the noise pass through. Hopkins just names the topology: funerals mistaken for the body, weddings mistaken for love, mirrors mistaken for souls.
Most spend life polishing the packaging — wrapping the void — while the few learn that wholeness is perforated. The secretion is that strength is not necessarily in tolerance, endurance or resistance but porosity.
So yes — what they say is none of one’s business. The air moves through the manifold, and the skyscraper stands.