[ He’s flexible. He’s also not serious. The real answer, right now, would be melancholy, and he doesn’t even think about it long enough to decide not to say it. He thinks around it, neatly as stepping over an uneven cobblestone. ]
—in need of a tutor for their eleven unruly children, each won over by a different song, until at the end of the line the widow-or-widower says, Bastien, we cannot imagine life without you here, please stay forever and read all of my books. And they kiss very well.
no subject
[ He’s flexible. He’s also not serious. The real answer, right now, would be melancholy, and he doesn’t even think about it long enough to decide not to say it. He thinks around it, neatly as stepping over an uneven cobblestone. ]
—in need of a tutor for their eleven unruly children, each won over by a different song, until at the end of the line the widow-or-widower says, Bastien, we cannot imagine life without you here, please stay forever and read all of my books. And they kiss very well.