Children = Disease Vectors
Mar. 17th, 2003 08:07 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
elfsHaving children, unfortunately, means that I get exposed to a rich and varied diet of new viri, cultured within her body to massive populations which she then inflicts upon me. Normal exposure to these viri would not cause you average adult much trouble, but in the sheer quantities that a young child sheds as she coughs, sneezes, sniffles, and engages in other forms of excretion, it can overwhelm an adult immune system.
So I'm currently a little under the weather, suffering from the same cough and sore throat that Kouryou-chan is fighting. Forgive me if I'm a little discombobulated. I'm entertained that, on the eve of the war, I'm listening to French pop music rather than my usual steady diet of Asian pop music.
I was sitting outdoors today, watching the world go by while I downed my lunch, and I found my eyes wandering most readily towards a small gathering of four college students from the Indian subcontinent. Two men, two women, all enviably young and strikingly, achingly beautiful. One of the women had that kind of rutilant dark skin that reminded me of the taste of browned butter, heavy, dangerous, unquestionably delicious. The other was a touch lighter, with a big tattoo on her left shoulder, exposed despite the cool late winter. I could not make out what it was at the distance. I could hear the boys taunting, the girls giggling.
It's spring, soon. Men and women walking around with fewer clothes, exposing more skin. Something better to think about than... well...
So I'm currently a little under the weather, suffering from the same cough and sore throat that Kouryou-chan is fighting. Forgive me if I'm a little discombobulated. I'm entertained that, on the eve of the war, I'm listening to French pop music rather than my usual steady diet of Asian pop music.
I was sitting outdoors today, watching the world go by while I downed my lunch, and I found my eyes wandering most readily towards a small gathering of four college students from the Indian subcontinent. Two men, two women, all enviably young and strikingly, achingly beautiful. One of the women had that kind of rutilant dark skin that reminded me of the taste of browned butter, heavy, dangerous, unquestionably delicious. The other was a touch lighter, with a big tattoo on her left shoulder, exposed despite the cool late winter. I could not make out what it was at the distance. I could hear the boys taunting, the girls giggling.
It's spring, soon. Men and women walking around with fewer clothes, exposing more skin. Something better to think about than... well...
