Personal Blogs

We got to meet them, well some of them, from what the other mes say they aren't countable. Whatever that means here.

They were all puddle-glums who don't look like us, and who don't think like us.

It was the strangest thing: google translate your thoughts. They were listening, never mind dancing, to the beat of a different instrument, never mind a drum.

"What do you know about this place?"

"It is mostly left inclined, until."

"How many of you are there?"

"One and three."

There was much like that.

"See. It makes potential sense, they, the others, may have seen something that we don't. Do they hear what we say in the sense that we say it?"

We were back in our place, where our legs could dangle.

"It's not that you can't get any sense out of them, it's that you can't understand the sensible things that they say..."

"What do they think about us?"

"How would we know?"

"So in a sense it, whatever this is, is what we decide that it is?"

"No!", I looked at me, "well, maybe. But you know that you are being a stupid shithead there. You can be clever, or you can be realistic."