To the Bullshit-Detector

I see a lot of you in my daughter. It terrifies me. You have an exceptional bullshit-detector. So does she.  Of course, any observer could guess this from the way you reclined in your desk, like Jimi Hendrix on a sofa at an intimate house party (your lidded gaze and smirk suggested the same kindContinue reading “To the Bullshit-Detector”