The Philosopher

Once upon a time there were three little pigs in a forest, boiling soup.
They sat under a canopy of green. Insects fumbled about, blinded by the bright summer sunshine. A petulant child started singing from another room.
"What was the soup doing?" asked the philosopher, sitting alone in the cottage next door, roasting his hands on a crackling fire. "If soup was soup and soap was soap, then what was a human?"