It’s good, I think, to reveal on occasion one’s younger side, to dismantle or at least set aside our mature trappings and play like blond-haired children, roll in meadows, run through hay, and show that we embrace life with big palms and sincere passion, and do not always need those fences of cynic pretension to mend and maintain our borders – folly-proof! – against our fellow child-men and women, et al.

Or: Instant messaging can get out of hand.