Delhi,
You are hella whack but fun all the same. If you were a cheese you'd be jalepeno cheddar -- not something I'd put on my bagel every morning but a titillating late night snack. Delhi, you are the middle pages of a Murakami novel, the gestalt of the Third-Estate, a youth orchestra rehearsing Schoenberg, and the thought of a NRA rally broadcast live by NPR. Delhi, I've proven to you that you are more than a one-night stand but notwithstanding understand that tonight I need to sink into an armchair. You are dodging-"tuk-tuk"-motorcycle-bullets real; I respect you for that. We're war buddies Delhi. Both our lungs are heavy with industrial shrapnel coughed up by the West. How do you do it Delhi? We will continue this conversation as friends at a future date TBD. Until that time, take care of yourself, keep cleaning the Syd Barret carbonated-carbon grime off your shoes and shine on man, write me if you feel like it.
Thanks for the callus,
Shalev