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I qi gonged tonight, in a room of middle-aged french ladies, in a language I couldn’t comprehend

March 16, 2016

http://thesmartlocal.com/read/food-factories – to go one day, one day when things are normal again. Or perhaps even if they aren’t.

Soon it will be April, printemps, le season de fleurs. Aussi, the bientôt conclusion of my wandering among strangers. Peut-être, je serai voyagé avec amis. Puis, seul. Nous va voir. Je serai contente quand cette est fini.

Je mange trop beaucoup, trop vit ce soir. Beetroot salad (at least, what I think it was- my very earnest host pronounced it ‘beatle juice’, the italien rice- what is it- ricodo? ricaso? not pilaf, not couscous. Picasso. Anyway- cheese and fruit after. All very nice, and washed down  afterward with some infusion I didn’t quite have the space for. My stomach sounds like multiple pipes going all at once now- gurgling and shooting stars flying around within. Meanwhile a cat sleeps on my lap. I can’t read cats.

‘help us not to fear the pain and darkness that ends at Easter,’ he prayed on Sunday. C’est vrai, il y a mal et sombre, mais il y a Jésus, et le esprit (希望?) of His glory. Easter is coming!

 

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