Sometimes, when I catch the 20, I feel like I can almost smell the humanity. Whether it's a waft of someone's perfume, or an piss-ridden old man smell, or the reek of garbage. Some mornings I almost gag on it, it's so thick.
When I spoke to Soph (& Ruben!) last night, the Hastings lifestyle came up. She asked me if I felt desensitised to it yet. I couldn't say for sure. I don't know whether being fascinated (however grimly) means that I have lost my sensitivity, or if this fascination is sensitivity.
The topic shifted back to her son, and I wanted to know how big his feet are, so I could picture how big he is. Apparently, his foot is the length of her palm right now. I spoke to him on the phone when he was crying, and he stopped. I wonder what he smells like. Pretty nice I would think.