Trying to explain the 115 charges to my Ma over the phone was like tuning a radio with a broken knob, la—all static. She just said, “As long as you’re happy, thik cha.” My own noise these days is just the Yamaha’s hum and the crows outside, which is nothing like a proper khalij pheasant’s call. But for ninety minutes, the only charge I care about is the one up the pitch.
#man-city
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