You meet a child who knows what you’re thinking. The walk-light has just gone red.
“Have we met before?” you say. “Are you lost?”
“Yes, and no. To both questions. You’re confused now, a bit alarmed. You’re trying to think about anything but That Thing, but you’re circling the topic so narrowly that I can see the shape of it in your mind.”
You look away.
“That’s a naughty word.”
“I want you to–”
“–stop doing that.” The child sighs. “Yes, I know. You needn’t think such mean things about me, you know. It’s not like I can help it.”
It depresses me to think that, if a person who could read thoughts were forced to spend time with me, they’d probably be suicidal by the end of day one, just because of how inane most of my thoughts are.
Scones? Or Welshcakes? Scones? Or Welshcakes? What about Blueberry Muffins?
Don’t worry; no-one’s thoughts are not inane! The only way to get anything profound thought at all is by writing or talking aloud.
[…] Previously: /2014/02/23/stoplight-conversation/ […]