Pom
I don’t talk like I think. I have a friend who does. His name is Pom. The words flow freely from him. But lets talk about another friend, because Pom will be fine; my other friend will not be fine. She will drive herself insane. There’s a thing that Steinbeck said about shrewdness — that it’s limiting because a shrewd person’s mind tells them not to do things that aren’t shrewd. And I accept and embrace this idea; if only I could get her to. Perhaps she does see it. Perhaps I’ve set a good example.
