remmers
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On the Veranda
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Aug 26 16:58 UTC 2007 |
In the cool of the day, it was there that I met my nemesis. Yes, there,
as I was sipping a refreshing tropical punch on the veranda of very same
hotel where, decades earlier, Count Lundgren and the Duchess of Lambourg
had their infamous tete-a-tete that altered the course of fashion and
style in so many subtle yet profound ways.
The veranda faced on a winding street teeming with pushcarts and
perambulators, commerce writ small, bumping and jostling in a Brownian
movement that was both exciting and consoling to observe. Overhead, a
small aeroplane engaged in skywriting; "Lulu I love you" the message
said. Lulu's misfortune, to be loved by a pilot or someone who pays
pilots. Yet the world did not judge this, the world never judges. I took
another sip of my punch, enjoying the light breeze on my face and
relishing my solid connection to terra firma.
Fate has a way of sneaking up and surprising you, much like a pesky
street urchin with a water balloon. An unexpected hand clap on the
shoulder is like sudden transport into an alternate dimension where
logic is topsy-turvy and experience useless.
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