I like how language is so dynamic. Words are like a river, always coming, always going, always here.
But like water it seems to have some sort of diffusion constant. Whatever that constant is, it seems to be noticeably slow. Today when I asked for three extra shots in a venti mocha, the barista busted out with a phrase that was popular where I come from fifteen years ago. “Respect!”
Respect, indeed, my friend. That much caffiene would kill a small dog.
