Motherfugger, I curse to myself as I step carefully down the servants’ stairs. It comes out unbidden, strange and filthy in my mouth. And right all the same. This is why we have cursing. I never understood what made folk do it. But now I know. All our dire feelings stain the heart, and the stains bloom into curses. I don’t know how to sort this mess. The ways I’ve tried only put me in danger.
Morning/almost afternoon all,