My Father Was A Civil Servant, So

Children, Who Have Yet To Learn Our Ways, Are Notoriously Promiscuous In Their Affection. They’ll Sit On Anyone’s Knee.

But You're Beautiful, And The Beautiful Should Be Given Whatever They Want." "hey, What About The Ugly Ones?" "the Ugly Ones." She Poked Her Tongue Out. "it's Their Fault If Their Ugly. They're To Be Blamed, Not Pitied.

If Jealousy Was The Vindaloo Of Love, I'd Imagined Her Tongue Burning, And Such A Fire Forcing Her To Spill Her Truth.

These Days Everyone Was Insisting On Their Identity, Coming Out As A Man, Woman, Gay, Black, Jew - Brandishing Whichever Features They Could Claim, As If Without A Tag They Wouldn’t Be Human.

How Disturbing It Is That Our Illusions Are Often Our Most Important Beliefs.