We do not speak of that
“An inability to stay quiet is one of the most conspicuous failings of mankind.” ~Walter Bagehot
It’s probably none too polite to speak of a woman who went into histrionics on Saturday or the very serious and exasperated way in which she told a four year old to get his ‘fucking’ shoes on. Or my horror in witnessing such a thing. Because what does one privy to that sort of thing do? Mind your own business and keep it moving and then quietly wonder to yourself why it feels like this woman may shoot lasers out of her eyes, straight to your cerebellum if you so much as smile or speak of joy, rainbows and puppies.
I’m always the one twiddling my thumbs and looking in the opposite direction. Whilst my mind wanders and I try to put all that I see into provocative and coherent sentences. But I do not. Because there are just some things that you cannot possibly divulge. Or because one person’s provocative and coherent is another’s vapid and ambiguous.
But between you and me, what I really think is that somebody needs to get laid.