the tinderbox

//hca.heindorffhus.dkI was weaned on H C Andersen. Mr Ugly Duckling himself. Mr deny who you are so you can camoflage yourself so you don’t frighten the natives into thinking you’re anything other than just like them. Unfortunately I was never that good at camo, and always was the stranger in a strange land.

Tonight my dining companion was a stranger in a strange land, the very urbane and charming Mark Berstein. Yep, Mr Tinderbox himself. I’d like to give you a potted picture of Mark, but he’s not that easy to classify. Resistant to pins through his chest, little lable kind of guy. Instead you find yourself in the company of someone with a broad based bundle of wit and wisdom, at once encouraging in push you to better, think harder stretchy your mind out kind of way. How nice is that?

We ate malaysian, I tortured Mark by walking him all over downtown Wellington. He blogs the next day how his shoes were destroyed. Coincidence? I think so. If you get the chance to dine with Mr B, you’ll come away with eyes the size of the Round Tower.

 

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