Compromises must be embraced; not the tired proclivities of them being the backbone of any healthy relationship. They are a trove of opportunities. An exchange of doing what a tincture of you resists, with the forbiddance of what you cannot bear. A problem arises with the head. It can only look in one direction at all times. Unless it is on its head, which is no reliable perspective at all. On the other hand, the tale feels. Not simply in the abstract sense, but it navigates and roams. Explores. It can lag between tottering legs. Sweep the floor left to right in sanguine bliss, as the tongue in the head laps up the milk of life. But always rigid and looking the same way as before.