I expected to ask for a change of venue in my French class today, but I was pleasantly surprised. It was the best class so far in nine days. We each gave a report on an America star. It was supposed to be someone in the movies, theater or music, but I decided to present Hilary Clinton. Though she is not my favorite person, she is certainly a star to many of the woman in the US. So I was more than kind.
Then the teacher, her name is Irene, asked us to put together a love story. You know me, I can't even begin to imagine what a love story would look like. So I remembered a scene I saw in New York city. There was a young woman holding hands with a chimpanzee, about her height, and he was dressed in men's clothes. I stood looking at them as if an alien had just landed, but the New Yorkers just kept walking by.
So I suggested to my group that we write their love story. The guy from Brazil was horrified, but the girl was okay with it. So we did. And what a love story it was. San Claire, the guy, refused to take any responsibility. It's all Hopi's fault, he kept shrieking. Guess what, most people listened to our story.