My face is still here, so I have scanned it again. Sometimes I wonder if a stranger looking at my face can tell what I'm thinking. As if it's a big transparent window you can look through and see all the chicken videos currently twirling around my brain. It's nonsensical, but sometimes it feels as if everything must be visible how. Everyone can surely sense that I am thinking about buying a big punnet of grapes and lying down in my pyjamas to eat them.
But it's not true, my face doesn't betray any of those intense fruit-based fantasies. No one ever knows how ardently I am focusing my attention on grapes. It's kind of a shame, in a way.
Anyway, I love grapes.
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Thank you so much for your comments, especially if they include limericks about skeletons.
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