Interacting with hard surfaces is sore, but one learns how to deal with it. Extra skin must come to the party, we aren’t running this ship alone. I feel as if my brain is callused. My mind interacts quite roughly sometimes. Right now for instance (11:31). I am having a rough time of it.
The human callus sits down on the wooden garden bench. The splinters do not bother, nor do they pester the lump of flesh. Oh to be a fully formed callus, in body and mind. The callus reaches its globular limb outward intending on grasping the hot cup of tea. Too hot for any normal hand most certainly. The callus knows this, and so picking up the steaming cup, he drops it straight back down onto the bench. Luckily the cup is not upended. Upon close inspection by the callus of the callus’s callused hand, there is not a burn mark to be found. Really his hand was callused enough to not feel the pain. The mind still needs some callusening (11:40) up it seems.
The words are unsatisfyingly thick at the moment. Starting off well, I believed that the morning would herald a smooth consistent flow. Apparently not. Instead the callusing follows in suit and with a deft manner. The suit is green and has gold embroidery.