Ideas are not a rare commodity. The difficulty comes when attempting to pan the mental drivel for anything other than fool’s gold.
Yet only time can see beyond the delusional veil of enthusiasm. I had one of these questionable epiphanies recently, yet before sufficient time had abated to effectively assess its quality, I sent Rinus a peculiar email asking:
“Can I have a mould of your teeth?”
It is only whilst waiting for the reply that it really dawned on me that I may have stepped over a clear intimacy boundaries. Thankfully, he obliged.