Senti

Tell me your stories, in long hand one day. Sit down and lounge, by the fire, by a cooler, full of ice, full of drinks, full of memories it’s heard. Of other pairs sitting down languidly, to an evening in. so you grew up in Aberdeen, don’t they call it furry boot town? You went to school, by a lake, and there was an old man, with a pipe. Or a drum. Tell me your stories, over hours, go slow, and I’ll tell you mine.

This piece of sop is dedicated to someone who has, over many many years, inadvertently ended up defining my idea of companionship. Don’t get too cocky now, sweets.