I learnt something about what it takes to tell a [[story]] yesterday evening as I was sitting in a circle with old and new friends, although I only realized it twenty hours later.

A man named [[Jhanu]] was trying to narrate a past event and he kept getting interrupted. Attention from the group kept shifting, either purposefully (as a jest) or due to the sheer chaos that tends to arise in any human group of a certain size (in particular when alcohol or other intoxicating drugs are involved); but he kept his focus (or regained it when it was lost), did his best, and was able to tell his tale to the end.

In the moment I didn't think much of it (although I was rooting for him), but now in retrospect it strikes me as a hard task of uncertain payoff; and indeed, from this group of ten, only he told a tale. With a bit of [[esprit de l'escalier]] (sp?) I think now of the tales I could have told, but didn't; and the more uncertain tales that I will never know that lied in others.

If I had to choose one tale to tell, I'd choose two instead, and let you [[take your pick]].