Whether it’s a tourniquet or a poultice,
small talk plays its part only if both parties believe
in the magic of innocuous prattle,
even if sometimes you have to destroy
evidence to the contrary—
no wonder an old heathen remains silent.
More words to ponder at maciejmodzelewski.com
While it has always been nothing more than an annoying but unavoidable chore, I find eating
to be a rather intimate activity, which is why I do not see much difference between a restaurant
and a brothel, where, purely because of some social convention, I have to spend the equivalent
of a week’s worth of home-made dinners on something my body is going to excrete a few hours
later anyway, just to show all the strangers occupying every inch of space around me that I have
impeccable table manners.
hidden pilcrow 