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Mocking |
Monday 21st March 2005 |
You are not mocking me, are you?The tailor inspects me with a mix of suspicion, disbelief, doubt and pleasure. He just digged up a lady boot with a missing sole from my broken, half, old travel bag.
It will be his job to replace the zipper of the bag, no worries, but:
The lady boot is not mine, it is not Jessy's either, but it belongs to her boss. She lost part of the sole yesterday. Now Jessy and I are on our way to the shoe maker. It is a nice walk, a good break from work. The laptop is hibernating for the moment. On our way we ran across this tailor, an unexpected chance to get the bag repaired.
My bag has been broken for ages and I am unable to repair it myself. It is an old bag, 15 years at least. Yes, it is worn out, but I'm attached to it. This bag has travelled the world all over.
The odd splitable bag is perfect for travelling.
But well, I think it is better not explain it all.
It is a too complex, complicated story.
So I just simplify into a short summary:
No, I am not mocking you. The boot is broken. Look, a part of the sole is missing
.
The tailor understands my point and supplies a plastic bag.
With one lady boot in that plastic bag Jessy and I continue our path in this foreign city. Mocking? No, no, on the contrary. We are on a very serious mission. Jessy and I are teaming up, forming the sole-repair-unit. We are taking a stroll so the boss can walk.