The One Where a Fog Descends Over the City and Felix cries, Yells, Snot Spills Over Everywhere
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Today it is, as usual, significantly past my bedtime, so pardon the gibberish. First a Public-Service-Annnouncement.gif (PSA) that regardless of how cute you might think fkb is:
We woke up this morning to fog! Better that than raining frogs?
“Parents are raised by their children as they raise their children.” (Uncles/Aunts/__ too!)
“Not this shit again.”
“Kumquats at bedtime.”
“Use the existing momentum to stay out.”
“Time isn’t just money, it is energy.”
What is the language of dreams? And what are the languages your grandparents read, write, and speak that you do not? Felix, listen kiddo who is not a button. শোন শোন শোন. I am somewhere between one and three languages less than what my grandparents had and perhaps this is something we can work on?
Revisiting Bengali and learning it with my ভাগ্নে. It helps that Hindi is so similar to it. Good thing we are not in a rush.
We painted more, of course we did, more on this soon (soon = later).
yours sincerely,
maama asad
