After visiting Keats' House, Liam and I went to check out Dr. Freud's former abode... it so happened that I had a packet of cheap Cuban cigars in my bag, that I'd picked up in Changi airport. Since the house was closed (we'd spent some time at Keats's) we decided to light up at Freud's old gate, joking about the famous quote attributed to him (but unsubstantiated).
In this case though, the cigar wasn't just a cigar... but neither was it a phallus! It was, in fact, an homage to the much maligned old doc who made it possible for us all to talk about the 'unconscious' mind, and the significance of our dreams, and not be laughed at. (Detractors tend to forget this part, and focus on his shortcomings - though nobody, it seems, harps nearly as much on the fact that Hemmingway was a thug, or that Shakespeare left his wife and young children to join the Queen's Men.)
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