Sunday, February 11, 2007
Sunny Sunday
My throat was on fire during the night but my hoarse voice disappears with my first cup of coffee brewed in our very own apartment. Art loads my computer into his backpack and takes off by bicycle for the internet café. He is hoping to get me connected at last. He returns an hour later with three days of my e- mails downloaded. A bouquet of flowers chocolate or champagne couldn’t have made me any happier!
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