— dear (past/future) self

[twelfthsong]

 

Comments

[twelfthsong]

No, no that just means I've experienced considerably GROWTH. There's a difference between those two.

[thedreamer]

I have plenty of time, I'm all ears. Explain it to me, Doctor. How have you grown?

[twelfthsong]

My palette is more refined. I don't feed our body ridiculous mixtures like fish fingers and custard.

[thedreamer]

What do you feed us, then? What's on the menu these days, Doctor? Curious, curious. We don't like pears, please tell me you haven't grown fond of pears!

[twelfthsong]

The day that we like pears is the last regeneration we'll ever have.

Sushi, crisps, croissants from this boulangerie nestled in Nice. Tea with lots of sugar - I think that's your influence there.

[thedreamer]

Well said. There's no going coming back from that. I dread to think.

Sugar! Yes! Good! You held onto the important things.

[twelfthsong]

Do you think the next regeneration will like them?

[ It’ll be a worse regeneration for it if they do in his opinion. ]

[thedreamer]

No absolutely not. If we've disliked them they'll carry on the tradition. They have to. The Doctor cannot like pears.