Mining My Own Business
It’s good, right, and refreshing that I don’t know anything about her other than her first name, which I couldn’t spell if I tried. That’s not true: I also remember that she was Russian and newly come to America, that she had a small son who was two years old but had the strength of a Titan, that she wore open sandals even in the winter to showcase her lavish pedicures, that she was an acting teacher halfway between old and young with a creaseless forehead and two curved lines around her mouth that seemed to put her sensuous lips in parentheses, who held some sort of salon twice a week in which actors were forced to do all sorts of strange, irrelevant things in pursuit of depth in their stage work. That’s all I know.
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