What if the booth is not right? What does this mean to you then?
Yesterday my love went to redeem his birthday gift. He had received a gift card for a Thai massage for his birthday. When he got there, the masseuse immediately recognized him as that gentleman of that car who is often at the door. She enjoyed getting acquainted and she told her that she had asked her husband who the car belonged to and her husband had responded to it with: “From that Colombian man” and since I live around the corner and he is with me regularly, he was also right “the neighbor”. Now the car is in my name, but I'll leave that aside for a while.
When I am in France with my love and sitting on a terrace, for example, we are asked in Spanish what we want to eat or drink. Now that has happened to me more often that people suspect a Spanish background to me, but when we are together, they turn that for granted into a language that neither I nor he speaks. By the way, when we are in Spain, we are also addressed by default in Spanish, but strangely enough I find that a little less strange than to be addressed in Spanish in France.
From mid-November, when the holy holy man has arrived, you suddenly see that he is being watched with argus eyes by children who still believe. The sweet little kids look a little more quiet than the kids who have “something to fear” by the way. He is then suddenly the Listerpiet for 3 weeks. I could say “willy-and-thanks” but I confess that he performs that role according to conscience and conscience. It's so cute to see when he puts his finger on his lips and then softly says to such a child, “Don't tell you I'm here” you see such a head nod as a sign “The secret is safe and I won't explain it”. I always find that so sweet to see, that interaction that then takes place.
