If something can be powderized what does the powder comprise?
The same thing can be done to fluid: fuel, before it's broken up into pieces, does not explode. That which fluid comprises cannot be argued, but we might suppose ourselves a volume that is infinitely divisible. If we take two such volumes without mixing them, we describe the process of forming the collective as meta. Now we look at a collective that may have been thus formed. If we receive it as a unit, and that which it comprises is clearly labelled, can we call these component volumes anything but atoms?
Structs are said to have fields, which are sometimes called members, and sometimes elements, but as we shan't be including chemical metaphors we henceforth adopt the word atom. An atom is not something round. And it is not something that sits in an eggbox. Perfectly square might better describe them: though we appreciate the efficiency of bees, the edges of a honeycomb are a problem.
Now there's a liquid made up of atoms: there's a liquid that reminds us of a curse called a plastic bottle; there's a substance that reminds us of the field of chemical engineering. There's a reminder of what is done with the pockets of the world. But elements are clean: elements are holy. Mixing fluids is just a way to get to know how the members around the table invoke each other's buttons, so to speak.
Vomit! There's another substance made up of atoms. And elements. The member from whence it emanates belongs in the field of medicine. Atoms also get themselves involved in pharmaceutical research. But that, we know, is a matter of keeping the wheels of industry turning.
We are, every one of us, cattle. But we might as well see a cow as an atom. Or a pig or a chicken. Not to see these as substitutes for the Holy Ox; I don't mean that (although some of us are lucky enough to be happy with just about any meat on any given day). Righteousness may have its day, and cattle might learn to speak to vegetarians to tell them that their lives are unfulfilled if they must end their life by being put out to pasture. But telling people to stop making a stink is just clucking at pigs.
And trusting people who make money out of gullibility gets us to wonder for how long grass has been called a hormone. I do feel a bit of a vegetable for having once thought that cows were raised in pens. Majestic, which more befits both sexes, this beast does not ask to be seen as something other than vegetable.
I forgot the sheep. Sheep are atoms, too.