There’s something deeply alluring about predictability. It’s like a mental embrace, a kind of linguistic stillness that shields us from the unknown. Everyday communication rituals, “How are you?”, “Good, and you?”, aren’t meant to inform, but to affirm. They’re gestures of inclusion, cultural signals that say: We’re speaking the same code. Just like we laugh at a TikTok sketch not because it’s new, but because the gag is familiar.
The human mind isn’t built for the unknown, it’s an obsessive pattern-recognition machine. It wants to see what it’s seen before, to feel safe within familiar forms.
This same logic, subtly reactionary, seeps into the world of art as well, precisely where we’d expect openness, risk, and movement toward the unfamiliar.
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