new year’s eve

Delilah, on New Year’s Eve.

Delilah: How did you celebrate this castratingly realisational passage of pointless measurement of arbitrary parameters? Did you have a snog and a whisky? Or a cabaret and a spliff? Or, dare I say it, a bottle episode?

Cecily: Bottle episode. Setting: my house. Cast: every Tinder date I’ve met over the past year. Food: fromage. Ending: catastrophic, as preordained.

Alexander, on rereading.

Alexander: I just finished my annual rereading of The Unbearable Lightness of Being. This time, it broke my heart more than usual.

Two friends, after New Year’s Eve.

Cecily: One day, someone will write about the grand explosion that was yesterday. Perhaps it was not so much an explosion as a type of cold war. I kissed Nino. Yves walked in and saw us. Jonathan wanted to beat Yves to a bloody pulp. Augustin pontificated about the fact that none of the others were good enough to receive the love of half the tip of my little finger. All of them confessed their undying love for me.

Alexander: Queen.

Cecily, on literary devices.

Cecily: I have created whole characters out of hyperbolic metaphor, and written of kaleidoscopes of butterflies without the need for any metaphor at all.