The certainty of certain troglodytes soon draws the curtain
on the barest possibilities for chat. They stand there in their
troglodyte-hauteur beyond the reach of caring what you think
about what they call “this” and you call “that.” You wouldn’t
mind relaxing with them – praise their dahlias, pet their cat –
bantering about the bliss of watching premiere ballerinas
do their pas-de-deux and entrechats – or asking them where
you should go on a vacation: Cap D’Antibes, Mount Ararat?
But any topic taken up with certain troglodytes goes splat.
.
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