Hi, parents

Meeting the parents is always like flirting with the future:

Flirting with the future and tripping awkwardly, trying to be as taciturn as possible but the future beckons.  The beckoning future has hair, has skin; the beckoning future has unlooking eyes. In the future, there is a long long long table and all the family is one. There are two people brushing elbows with each other. There might be some oneness. The future might flirt back.


Prick my mind:

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