Now, back to the lockdown wing of our nursing home . . .
Wait a minute, in which of these rooms is my assignation?
In my day, such matters were discussed sotto voce, but then I am nearly a hundred years old.
Please have some yogurt.
It is impossible to die but it is execrable to live.
It is a game, really, WHO BITES IT NEXT.
I am gathering my courage, waiting to come in.
Waiting to let go.
I am a surface world.
We blend in.
I hear continuo. It should be 18th, not 19th. For THE GAME. Victorian is more the requirement of our Goetia.
So we’re still on.
It would appear JUST SO.