Think of it this way. You are in Paris, and in a good frame of mind. You feel the historicity of the place, you understand the motives for these palaces of stone, there is a good tone to the afternoon, and the weather is excellent. You happen upon a street painter painting the river, and given your awareness of the moment, you can read the totality of your experience in the painting on the easel, so you purchase it and take it home.
The mistake is to think that the afternoon existed for the acquisition of a painting. It is a breadcrumb, and one doesn't savor breadcrumbs. It is a marker for your experience, and an incentive to experience.
Much of modern logic would say that the painter, and you, and the city existed for the material purpose of the painter's creation, but that is Gollum's gold, not the good stuff from the river.
Experience necessarily involves the totality of experience -- we don't remember just a specific sensory intuition -- the specific sensory intution is a breadcrumb, from which we assemble the totality of experience as ourselves, as memory.
If reducing the high purposes of life to the mundane experience had by billions all over the world right now seems a bit of a let-down, then you might have gone through a wrong gate upstream, and carried from it the assumption that the everyday is already known and therefore unspectacular. Everything we will ever have or know or perceive comes through that door. Beware of reductionism in that regard.
Here ends the lesson, as there's coffee to be had.