TranslatingRitaSophie

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WWWBT 13 or Blue butterflies at CF!

I am drinking my morning coffee in a nice, porcelain mug I paid 17 pounds for at Harrods. It’s full of cows. The mug. Bred cows – Jersey and Beltet Galloway are on the inside, and I have 6 other breeds on the outside. Together with some flowers, a cream skimmer, a three-legged stool, a milk pail, and a milk churn. Quite a mug I have here. Someone who is into cows and dairy stuff might think.

Oh, and I’m smoking again. Well…. Does puffing a small cherry cigar once in a while count as smoking? Probably yes, and I don’t want to live in denial anymore. So, here it is, I’m smoking again, I’ve restarted my training with Circuit Factory and we agreed, Darren and I, not to mention the Camus night ever again. Because, apparently, nothing happened. We just had some nice dinner, he fixed my router password, I drove him crazy reading Camus in French, and that was it!

We’re going to the beach tomorrow, like good, old friends who are sharing everything, except for a bed. And after the beach, Circuit Factory. It’s going to be a very inspirational start of the weekend!

I get to Springs at 9:30; I know around 10 there will be no more parking places. I spend a few minutes in the car, listening to some music, tweeting, and intentionally not thinking of the next hour. And I’m so concentrated on the screen of my iPhone I literally jump in my seat when someone taps on the window of my Jeep. I turn my head to the left and I swear, the time stops still. It’s like those effects on TV, when everything and everyone are rooted to the spot, either in the air, or with their hands raised up, or with a frozen tear on their cheek…. It’s only me, the viewer, the one able to move, to touch, to smell, to pretend is breathing. The CF guy stays in front of the passenger seat door, with a tired smile on his face. I open the door, get out of the car and simply hug him. It’s a friendly hug, an expert in hugging would say. Nothing concupiscent, nothing to betray my elevated heart rate and an abnormal desire to lift his shirt and… No, it was only a friendly hug, we catch up, I haven’t seen in more than ten months, how’ve you been, nice tan, oh, you put on some weight, *uck off, no, I keep this to myself, I’m a lady, and swearing in public in Dubai can be quite tricky.

We work together in the same station; it’s good to feel him on my left. And there’s Tina, one of the trainers, I bet she had a bad night and decided to kill us today. I don’t stop, though, it’s good to train with him again, here comes another burpee, and another, blow that damn whistle, woman!!!!

After the final whistle, I collapse on a black mat, trying to catch my breath, my neurons, my words… He’s talking to me…

‘What are you doing tonight?’

Well, I’m thinking, tonight I will undress you, count all your moles, divide the skin on your back into independent territories, with no capitals, no kings and no constitutions, free of any possible oppression, where only blue butterflies are entitled to have an opinion.

‘Su is having a party. Come, it’s gonna be fun!’

I don’t do parties, I want to tell him. I am the queen of solitude, controversial music and liquors with no points of view whatsoever.

‘Sure, I’ll be there!’

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