I know right, this was supposed to be the continuation of "The Art of Breathing," and I promise you that will come, probably, almost definitely tomorrow.
But . . . I've just had a fun, funny, playing with words chat with a friend that reminded me of who I am, where I come from, why I sometimes don't fit in and why I should stop trying so hard to do so.
In the course of things, her imaginary island and unicorns were mentioned (unicorns not being imaginary but hoping that humans are only a bad dream) and, she and I being wordsmiths and fools, we ended up with her asking me to pass her the unicorns and me telling her not to tip them.
Because, as I have been told often in Asia, if you tip the unicorns, waitresses, taxi drivers or any other creature that makes life easier for you, "you spoil it for the rest of us."
Do NOT tip the unicorns, just pass them my way . . .