Cold, as I have realised in the past few days, is an inadequate adjective for winter.
The air is hungry and goes straight for your face. Biting right into the unsuspecting naked skin, which plays the unwilling martyr in this war between wool and winter.
This is usually not the best time to ask for a kiss. The face has lost all sensations and even an exotic Thai massage would fail to arouse them back.
That’s maybe because Thailand is a tropical country. And according to the last Eskimo census, there were no known masseurs among them. Pity.
But if you have sinned, it’s the best time to ask for a slap. Or get whacked across your face with sledgehammer. You may die, of course. But I can promise it would be a painless exit.
Dhen dhere is dhis thng abhout d thpeech. D thongue theems dhrunk andh you shuffer phrom vherbhal dyslexia.
And all they can say is it’s cold!
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