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I was feeling tender towards you. I shall try to again.
You inspire me to art.
Ah, I know him well, Yorick.
He is scared and unused to light. He is comfortable in the shadows with
slow safe steps out of the cave. I scare him. He has said as much.
This logic equates to non-mutual trust.
The product is a stalled relationship. In the eddies.
Trust is laughter and comfort and snuggles and gathering cultural references
and fireplaces and honeymeade and whining and whimpering and yawping and
just pretty much the door for all of it. The door. the room. the farm. the
peasants. the universe. the queen. the mistress.
Is it your turn?
I surrender.
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