please do your job and check the thing / I want my frog antiques
then I appeared like a dancing bear
All science fiction has its basis in the real world. This is the real world I base mine in. It has jokes and cups of tea and big smiles. Sometimes I’m in awe of the power of fiction to unite us. I can say to the world “this is how it looks to me; is this how it looks to you?” and if I listen to the wind sometimes I’m lucky enough to hear a yes. Then the space between us blows out and I realise it does not look to you like it looks to me. American look at the chalk outlines Kiwis write and say “wow, somebody drew a silhouette! Neat!” and the only responses we’re socially permitted are to smile, make a joke, or make a cuppa.
Hysterical dude continues to be hysterical, which is a nice change from having the woman be hysterical all the time
When was the first time you realized you were this beautiful? yells the stylist and I look into the eye of the camera and think of diamonds on the surface of a dark green sea, songs of the deep in my ear, the lick of salt on my lips.
