Being a human creature makes me prone to bouts of fantasy. Such as, sometimes I get it in my head that I would like to go out and run with some deer, with feelings of vague and wistful longing. Then occurs to me that following an impulse like this to its natural conclusion will likely result in an awkward encounter, as I do not currently have any actual friends who are deer. If I did, I would probably know that going for a run through some woods or across a field or even a highway–– however spontaneous it may seem in a moment–– is the sort of thing one must be invited to do. Then I recall what kind of creature I really am, and feel vaguely ashamed, which seems like another habit particular to my kind.
