***

If you lose precision, you gain volume and unconditional precision.
I don't give a damn about the new year after all.
Your accuracy is not accuracy. Imitation of accuracy is worse than a miss.
In imperfection is perfection, as anyone can attest.
We're turning back time? Am I reading that right?
That's cheating, you know.
You know, I can barely walk at all, and my legs will fall off soon,
our accuracy belongs to us for a while, it's not ours.
My face is fine, thank you,
it'll turn to ash, as it should.
Pride in anything is a mirage at all.
No, it's still ahead of us.
Yeah, it depends where you look.
Everywhere you look, there's a forward.
Formalities will not be satisfactory now
Yes, eight palms, of course.
“Satisfactory” is again seventeen letters in my native language.
And I won't be wrong about a single one of course.
That's exactly what inaccuracy pretends to be.
You won't get any of them wrong, but they're all wrong.
Real art is unsophisticated.
Stop masquerading.
What are you talking about? I'm, you know, thinking in English now,
like a proper British gentleman and housewife.
Happy New Year to you, too.