Day of the Virgin
Yes, today Argentines celebrated. It is a national holiday, which means that one can stay out extra late, till sunrise or so, on the previous night. Though I got home relatively early, I too stayed up till dawn, clebrating... sort of.
When I got up around 1400, the rain was beating against the pavement below our windows. Perhaps this was what inspired Pavlo to clean out the apartment. He started with his room, placing everything on various surfaces above the floor and pouring water straight on the parquet. Then, with a large squigee he drove the dark-orange fluid trough the living room, kitchen, and on to the back balcony, where it seeped through the drain. "My" room then underwent the same treatment, with my futon, Alexandro's easel, his table with canvases, brushes, paints and other useful objects, and the dining table all moved about the room in turn to make way for the deluge. When Ludmila arrived she was half-heartedly surprised at our undertaking. "Oh, you guys ceaned, about time."
Ludmila, Pavlo's long-term ex and now my experimental English student, had forgotten her Advanced Englidh text and workbook, which we had picked out the previous Friday. Instead, she brought a Hollywood celebrity fashion/gossip magazine. Though this particular periodical had little valuable information, at least in my opinion, it nontheless contained some new words in a few of its short articles. In particular, we read about X Aflec and JLo´s pre-Christmas wedding plans and about the new trends in celebrity plastic surgery.
After we read the snippet about breast enhancements, she recounted to me the story of one of her co-workers, who recently had some "work done." Apparently, this woman's new rack does not jump when she does (here, best translation from russo-spanish). She now has a monolythic chest, tight and solid. The doctor promised that the skin will eventualy stretch out a bit and they will look more saggy and natural. I was curious to know why a woman would want saggy breast implants. Girls, don't you all want a perfect pair like Angelique's (Jolie)? The magazine claimed that you do. After calling me an American for having made french toast, Ludmila left.
By now the wooden board of our parquet floor had dried. The apartment itself assumed a clean, renewed look and feel. Madonna´s song, in particular the Molin Rouge version that an Argentina happily sang last night, came to mind.
When I got up around 1400, the rain was beating against the pavement below our windows. Perhaps this was what inspired Pavlo to clean out the apartment. He started with his room, placing everything on various surfaces above the floor and pouring water straight on the parquet. Then, with a large squigee he drove the dark-orange fluid trough the living room, kitchen, and on to the back balcony, where it seeped through the drain. "My" room then underwent the same treatment, with my futon, Alexandro's easel, his table with canvases, brushes, paints and other useful objects, and the dining table all moved about the room in turn to make way for the deluge. When Ludmila arrived she was half-heartedly surprised at our undertaking. "Oh, you guys ceaned, about time."
Ludmila, Pavlo's long-term ex and now my experimental English student, had forgotten her Advanced Englidh text and workbook, which we had picked out the previous Friday. Instead, she brought a Hollywood celebrity fashion/gossip magazine. Though this particular periodical had little valuable information, at least in my opinion, it nontheless contained some new words in a few of its short articles. In particular, we read about X Aflec and JLo´s pre-Christmas wedding plans and about the new trends in celebrity plastic surgery.
After we read the snippet about breast enhancements, she recounted to me the story of one of her co-workers, who recently had some "work done." Apparently, this woman's new rack does not jump when she does (here, best translation from russo-spanish). She now has a monolythic chest, tight and solid. The doctor promised that the skin will eventualy stretch out a bit and they will look more saggy and natural. I was curious to know why a woman would want saggy breast implants. Girls, don't you all want a perfect pair like Angelique's (Jolie)? The magazine claimed that you do. After calling me an American for having made french toast, Ludmila left.
By now the wooden board of our parquet floor had dried. The apartment itself assumed a clean, renewed look and feel. Madonna´s song, in particular the Molin Rouge version that an Argentina happily sang last night, came to mind.