Here we'd been, talking about hitch-hiking, for two hours. Letting our words float out into the tepid latesummer earlyevening air, to mingle with the sounds of bodhrans, flutes, bouzouki's accordians, mandolins, fiddles and digeridoos which were coming from some tourist's ghettoblaster in a bed and breakfast down the road.
When we could have captured our words, not as mollycules of air to be drowned out by atavistic audio waves, but as little smithereens of data to be found on the net for people to see all over the World Wide World!