An inordinate number wore baseball caps in a room of lots and knots of conversations, a few faced a circle of space, forearms leaning on knees.
I realized that something metallic caught the light of he who was beside me. The sides of the baseball cap were a cheese grater. I reached up to touch it and withdrew hesitant and instead asked,
- is that a functional grater?
- Yep, it's sharp, he replied. You can check yourself, he added looking at my lowered hand.
I poked the metal and found it sharp.
-It's for head cheese, he said.
-Oh, I replied, and me having come and not brought any.
Reflections on publicity
1 week ago