Sometimes there are moments, when I’m sitting around a table, and it’s 10:30 at night, the dishes from dinner have been put in the sink, and we’re splitting the last of a box of cookies, and I realize…
I have become a participant in the kind of dinner party that seven-year-old me would have despaired over.
We’ve done nothing but sit around a table and *talk*.
And to be perfectly honest, it’s brilliant, because, seriously. I love people. Talking is fantastic. Dinner parties are amazing. We talked about art and activism and told stories of travel, we’ve talked of dreams and projects and the beautifully un-ending topic of youtube videos.
So. In conclusion: There are some evenings, when nothing in the world is more satisfying than being a boring old person. 😀