I love it when people are poets and they don’t knowsit, when they speak in slow profundity about the smallest of things.  Take the gal next to me in spin class this morning, to her friend or maybe a stranger or stranger friend:

Gal: I don’t like to sweat in rooms with others. It’s natural to sweat outside, But inside, shoved with others, it feels unnatural. It makes more sense to sweat alone.

Friend Stranger:….but this is spin class. It’s a class. So it’s with other people.

Gal:…I should probably get over myself.

Stranger Friend: Yep. Good Talk.

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