Dear all,
I'm still alive, though the dull pain in my face didn't pass yet (two days on antibiotics left - I'm desperate! And this is after a flu shot!), I work for the Agency and for our Big Hairy Hand in Toronto, translating some documents into French. On Sunday we have a concert at the church. On Monday I work, I don't know, if I find time for the gym, finally. And I'm not sure that I'm fit for it.
A few days ago we were to the X-mas party thrown by the police of the Steel City. The invited were mostly the people in need. The music was nice, the food was scary (though Baobeir asks me to calm down: "That's not because they don't respect drifters and refugees - that's because they themselves eat such a crap!") The biggest impressions were 1) the teenage girls from a modern dance school performing something about vacations in Rio - their bellies looked like they all had already had two to four children; 2) N (over 30, from Kenya, with the body of a Venus of Paleolith) dancing to the same music - imagine an enormous baloon floating on a string over the crowd, but the baloon that can move with a grace and precision to the every note. I preferred to look in the corner where N was dancing and thinking of my gym...
Love you all, guys!