I do that often.
I wonder if it’s like white noise to you, as you drive us through the forest, with trees, as you would describe, that kiss the sky.
‘I’m afraid of feathers.’ I say. ‘I just can’t. They creep me out’, as if that utterance disrupted the white noise.
‘Why? What about feathers creep you out?’
‘Idk, like if a feather landed on my lips I would have to get new lips.’
Shock, laughter, and confusion became your face. And you replied, ‘Always learning something new about. New lips. Where would you even get new lips?’