09 January 2012


I sat there for one whole hour having my teeth cleaned professionally (not that my teeth aren't clean, brushing and flossing are my rituals, but there is all that accumulated grit in the tight corners below the radar) by this little kwepie doll of a woman full of smiles and talk. Talk! I mean, there I am lying on this seat/stretcher with my fingers and toes clenched and the sweat running down my back while she tells me fabulous stories of a childhood in Siberia and clear frosty days and dry snow underfoot and salted fish and hot summers and insects and muddy roads and deep birch forests and old cars and dogs everywhere and all the time she is scraping and scratching and poking and sanding and then I get the glass of water and rinse it all out.

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