The End of 12 Good Years
Last night, I forced Belle to join me in a virtual toast to 'The End of 12 Good Years'. People don't usually celebrate the end of something good, I think, but I'm almost giddy for this. Belle isn't so convinced I'm off the hook, though. Come on, have some faith, I can do this.
Then we continued talking aboutour my newfound passion. Belle had taught me a so-called trick earlier. I tried the trick... and failed miserably.
Me: Are they real?
Belle: They are fake.
Me: They cannot be not real. They are so detailed and flawless. But if they really are real, why do they _____ like they need _____ very badly?
Belle: Exactly.
Me: No, I think they ARE real, but they just need to _____ it.
Or maybe I'm just too gullible and already too addicted to differentiate?
(We were totally inspecting some arts, definitely not trying some questionable substance for the first time.)
Then we continued talking about
Me: Are they real?
Belle: They are fake.
Me: They cannot be not real. They are so detailed and flawless. But if they really are real, why do they _____ like they need _____ very badly?
Belle: Exactly.
Me: No, I think they ARE real, but they just need to _____ it.
Or maybe I'm just too gullible and already too addicted to differentiate?
(We were totally inspecting some arts, definitely not trying some questionable substance for the first time.)
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