On the amazing comedy of a well-placed non-sequitur.

[We are driving home from Mississauga on a Sunday night after a great day. Listening to the radio, joking around, enjoying the drive. Pascale has been quiet for a bit. I am rambling on about guitar sounds on Neil Young tracks – it’s probably boring.]

[sotto voce] I wish I could eat… [Beat] clouds.

Ha – and why is that?

They look like they would taste like whipped cream. [Beat] Yummmmmmmm.


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