If you close your eyes right before Mrs. George’s new boobs hit, your brain will think that you have died. Some people find calmness in this.
They’re dragons, Khaleesi. They can never be tamed…not even by their mother.
Grief fills the room up of my absent child,
Lies in his bed, walks up and down with me,
Puts on his pretty look, repeats his words,
Remembers me of his gracious parts,
Stuffs out his vacant garments with his form.