Ultimately, who would like to be treated exactly how they treat everyone they have ever met? We are blind and insensitive, we might even justify the times we were brusque with someone: even a polite person can sometimes through the over-zealousness of kindness say just the wrong and the hurtful thing to someone. Strangely, thinking about such things has become my chocolate milk.
If the picture becomes constricting and there is no place left to walk in the mind, not even a night-time fishing village, something is wrong; here is a man. He is an entertainer. He can entertain constructive thoughts or the list of doubts and suspicions and distortions. Which performance shall we choose? I choose the one with cocoa and cows.
The book I am translating has a wonderful phrase that I will twist so as not to spoil its English launch: the icing on the gunpowder keg, referring to humour at the outskirts but still within the border of the acceptable, making of a dire situation something that is at least sugar coated. It retains its severity, but not without a touch of the imagination, the sign that somebody is alive, and has made something even in the final hour. It is this I would like to teach, this saccharine laugh I would like to feed into the glass milk bottles I emptied yesteryear.
Tape brush: ewansiim at DeviantART.