My Golden Buzzer
I dragged myself out of bed, hair looking like I’ve been wrestling with a tornado, and there He was, with a big grin, shining like the bright morning sun. Oh, I am madly in love with this Guy, more than all of you put together.
I dragged myself out of bed, hair looking like I’ve been wrestling with a tornado, and there He was, with a big grin, shining like the bright morning sun. Oh, I am madly in love with this Guy, more than all of you put together.
Oh, I was so furious, so furious; if I saw a bucket of water, I would pour it on him so his shining wings, which were so proud in the air as I walked out of the exam hall, would dim a bit.
Today at Charles de Gaulle Airport, I found myself in a predicament: defending a seat from an oblivious traveller determined to sit on an unexpected surprise. Laughter ensued, but so did a lesson in humility.
Then she took pity on me and said I should punish myself. I said I would say the Hail Mary. Little did I know, it would turn into a marathon of devotion. Normally, I expected her to ask me to say three to ten Hail Marys, but she brought out those beads and asked me to say five decades. I cried because then five decades felt like five million decades.
The Unrepentant Kissers
I recount my day at Biblioteca Camões, where I encounter a couple who can’t stop kissing, a snoring man with smelly feet, a human pin cushion blasting music, and other quirky library regulars. Amidst these distractions, I question if kissing should be banned in libraries, just like eating and smoking.