I hate small talk. I have always hated small talk. I want to talk about atoms, about death, about space and time, about the meaning of life, the lies you’ve told, you’re flaws and mine. I want to know your favourite childhood scents, I want to know when you were the happiest and how long ago did you really cry. I want to talk about the world and it’s ways, about galaxies far far away, about days to come and about days gone. I certainly am not great at answering what may or may not be up. I like people with depth, people with no sense of clarity but a sense of peace nevertheless. So you can ask me “what’s up”, and I’ll reply with a “nothing much”, or you can call, and we can really talk. The choice, is yours.