My life is extraordinary. Not because I think so. What reminds me of that every time is my glossy glass uniform. My initials ‘X.O’ are in gold inscription. My makers say I’m ‘Extra Old’ but I know I’m also ‘Xtra-Ordinary’. Others associate me with the hug and kiss reserved for the elites who appreciate my uniqueness. The mere middleclass cannot comprehend my worth. You dare not spill me. I can pay the salaries of peasants a hundred fold. You may call it arrogance but Continue reading →