One tries not to fall into stereotype. To not spin about the lamp post, “Bellissima!” ringing from your lungs. One tries to avoid gesticulating unnecessarily, working your shoulders in such a way that prompts others to ask if you need to stretch. One tries not laugh in the same way that leads you to cry from the joy of the moment. Or to not fill one’s lungs only to sigh the blissful exhalation of overflowing contentment.
One tries.
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