The gentleman sitting about 30 feet in front of my desk has a ponytail right in the middle of his forehead. (Is it still a ponytail if it's in the middle of your forehead? Food for thought.)
He is flipping through a magazine and patiently explaining its contents to an invisible companion. The companion is apparently having trouble getting it, but luckily our hero is a patient, patient man, and he doesn't mind using hand jestures--nay, even charades--to make himself clear.
I have no doubt that soon, all of the mysteries of the September issue of Vogue will be elucidated.
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