shoe glue

a quickie to say: guess who checked me out or i think he checked me out or i hope he checked me out or i imagined he did while i stood in front of my work building choosing where to eat with some colleagues.

monsieur ralph fiennes. he of tortured love and envelopping kisses, or so they seem on the big screen.

and not, as k said, the 'noseless evil version of Ralph Fiennes a la Harry Potter,' but the one wearing bierkenstocks, as i am today. and i could see a look of recognition flash in his eyes under that pulled-low straw fedora. his eyes screamed as if in their final breath:

'we are one, my beloved slush—we share a vision! our feet are similarly shod. we enjoy similar comforts. i am english. you like europeans. sometimes even you drink tea. with. lemon!!'

my eyes screamed back: 'i like scones!!!'

and he doesn't even know that my sister, r, was born in england. there are so many, many similarities. it is, as they say, bashert.

at. last.