Everyday Im reminded of the short story by David Sedaris, where hes studying French, in France--like me right now--and he and his classmates are trying to describe Easter. Every damn day this is how I imagine I sound when I speak French: He call his self Jesus, and then he be die one day on two . . . morsels of . . . lumber. T�he rest of the class jumped in, offering bits of information that would have given the pope an aneurysm. He die one day, and then he go above of my head to live with your father. He weared the long hair, and after he died, the first day he come back here for to say hello to the peoples. He nice, the Jesus. He make the good things, and on the Easter we be sad because somebody makes him dead today.
Posted on: Tue, 11 Mar 2014 16:59:13 +0000
Recently Viewed Topics
© 2015