[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.