After I had asked the French woman for a light for her cigarette, she asked: " do you like the Mærre? " and I said "Yes" and asked: "Ah, you're sower?" and I said "No" and asked back: "And you may be nude," to which she was silent irritated.
Well, it did not look like a nude model, but maybe I looked like a sailor? Perhaps we should begin our conversation differently, but why beat around the time bush? I was looking for a nude model, she was looking for a sailor. Apparently we were not meant for each other. Nevertheless, we continued our conversation after a short break. She seemed at first not to believe it really, that I was not a sailor, and wanted to know if I was intending, to build a steamboat, but so far my love went to sea did not want. No, I would read, "I said, and lo and behold, they did, only that I wrote my own lyrics, while the other texts read. It would also earn her living as a voice actress. If we now tried dubbing voices for women with a French accent, it would take real French women. Previously it would have taken German who imitated the accent only. But that would not have been so authentic. In fact, her accent sounded authentic
French, and even though they had lived since the eighties in Kreuzberg. We would certainly encourage us to talk further, but why waste time? The number of visitors was too big to stop too long with the wrong, and finally she looked for her sailor, and I my nude model.
The party was half French, the other half of Germans. 20 years ago, May 89, Babbra had married a Frenchman to leave the GDR can legally. They had not known before, and after a year it could be agreed as divorced. Nevertheless, she remained in contact, and now they celebrated the 20th anniversary of their marriage with the slogan: "20 years and no argument." Thus, the guests mingled and got to know better, the two had devised a game, that they are "The Lives of Others" called. Each guest received a card with information about a selected person for it that the "victim" was mentioned. Did you this sacrifice, so it had to buy one a drink. At the same time they were themselves victims of anyone. The resulting climate of suspicion and denunciation is here transfigured into a joyful party joke.
My sacrifice was to be a feminist who has studied psychology, but not in France, was formerly made dreadlocks and now Chi-Qong and occasionally worked as a nude model.
I asked my false French, whether they knew someone to whom this description were correct. She denied promising, but re listening to at the French. I wanted to keep my hand under the German sailors to look out. So we parted. From now on, we joined a dirty secret to a diabolical plan. But I could really trust her? Or they played at the end did a double game and I would deliver at the earliest opportunity to the knife?
The waves of the Spree threatening to hit the walls of the underground boat dock, which housed during the Cold War, the border patrol of the GDR and now found as a beach party room use. The background music was played from the eighties ". Who's that girl, running away from you" I let my eyes wander over the guests. Who was the girl who understands stirred in front of me hidden, the mysterious Femistin, who wore dreadlocks and buy me earlier times during the evening would be a martini, not shaken, of course.
I showed the search command my German friend. Generally it was felt that a nude model must be exceptionally beautiful. Iris just made fun of me. Wishful thinking claimed that she, pointing to a graying lady with dignity: "It's yours! Just ask if she's nude! "
" Maybe it is even, "I replied," but I do not think she wore dreadlocks sooner "and showed my hand on a guy with a fringed black hair and a beard just such. He looked like a bit of the animal from the Muppet Show. "This is yours," I replied, not knowing how I really was so. Ten minutes later he had to buy Iris a drink. He was actually looking for the fado guitarist and, moreover, as it turned out later in the evening, an excellent dancer.
I did not like dancing. I wanted to find my first feminist free drink. My broken English was more French women blush: "Excuse me, are you a nude model? - No? Then you must be a feminist. No? Psychologists do you know any? Tell me, if you find one. "
Then I changed my strategy. Instead of looking for my sacrifice, I really need to wait until it automatically came up to me. Everyone was here looking. I only had to eject himself as bait put on good strategic positions, and demonstrate willingness to talk. A good place to do it seemed like a fire that had ignited in the vicinity of the beach bar. There I stood pondering next to a group of young French women who immediately took notice of me. It was not long before I was asked, smiling if I was a doctor and perhaps would have written a book about body functions. No, do you? If one of you may Psychology study? No? Too bad.
"And whom do you seek?" I asked a beautiful French woman who was sitting a little off, "Maybe I am, yes."
"No, you're nothin '. Seeking ain Mädschn. "
She seemed about to be a little sad.
"Perhaps I know them."
"She uh gäschriebän a book. It was so traumatic imperiously. Ah, how do you say? There is a highway. I know nothin ', as they say. "
" Hmm. Highway. That might have to do with me. "
" no. You're nothin 'there. Table search ain Mädschn. "
" Show me your list with the information! Aha. He lives in a house that is to be demolished, because there is a highway built. A quote from a story he wrote about it is: the women go first, then comes the highway. Hmm. Yeah well. That's me. "
" No! That there is nothin '. Eastern thought, I am looking for a Mädschn "
" Yes, it is then obviously a translation error. In the German text on the note, is it '. Apparently Babbra and Thierry had 20 years without controversy, because they never understood. "
" Ah. It's you wirklisch. I found my victim. "
" And what's your name? "
" Orsisie "
"? "
"Angsicil"
"?"
"Anne-Cecile."
"Ah. And my name is Kampa. Andreas Kampa. What drink do you want? "
Well, it did not look like a nude model, but maybe I looked like a sailor? Perhaps we should begin our conversation differently, but why beat around the time bush? I was looking for a nude model, she was looking for a sailor. Apparently we were not meant for each other. Nevertheless, we continued our conversation after a short break. She seemed at first not to believe it really, that I was not a sailor, and wanted to know if I was intending, to build a steamboat, but so far my love went to sea did not want. No, I would read, "I said, and lo and behold, they did, only that I wrote my own lyrics, while the other texts read. It would also earn her living as a voice actress. If we now tried dubbing voices for women with a French accent, it would take real French women. Previously it would have taken German who imitated the accent only. But that would not have been so authentic. In fact, her accent sounded authentic
French, and even though they had lived since the eighties in Kreuzberg. We would certainly encourage us to talk further, but why waste time? The number of visitors was too big to stop too long with the wrong, and finally she looked for her sailor, and I my nude model.
The party was half French, the other half of Germans. 20 years ago, May 89, Babbra had married a Frenchman to leave the GDR can legally. They had not known before, and after a year it could be agreed as divorced. Nevertheless, she remained in contact, and now they celebrated the 20th anniversary of their marriage with the slogan: "20 years and no argument." Thus, the guests mingled and got to know better, the two had devised a game, that they are "The Lives of Others" called. Each guest received a card with information about a selected person for it that the "victim" was mentioned. Did you this sacrifice, so it had to buy one a drink. At the same time they were themselves victims of anyone. The resulting climate of suspicion and denunciation is here transfigured into a joyful party joke.
My sacrifice was to be a feminist who has studied psychology, but not in France, was formerly made dreadlocks and now Chi-Qong and occasionally worked as a nude model.
I asked my false French, whether they knew someone to whom this description were correct. She denied promising, but re listening to at the French. I wanted to keep my hand under the German sailors to look out. So we parted. From now on, we joined a dirty secret to a diabolical plan. But I could really trust her? Or they played at the end did a double game and I would deliver at the earliest opportunity to the knife? The waves of the Spree threatening to hit the walls of the underground boat dock, which housed during the Cold War, the border patrol of the GDR and now found as a beach party room use. The background music was played from the eighties ". Who's that girl, running away from you" I let my eyes wander over the guests. Who was the girl who understands stirred in front of me hidden, the mysterious Femistin, who wore dreadlocks and buy me earlier times during the evening would be a martini, not shaken, of course.
I showed the search command my German friend. Generally it was felt that a nude model must be exceptionally beautiful. Iris just made fun of me. Wishful thinking claimed that she, pointing to a graying lady with dignity: "It's yours! Just ask if she's nude! "
" Maybe it is even, "I replied," but I do not think she wore dreadlocks sooner "and showed my hand on a guy with a fringed black hair and a beard just such. He looked like a bit of the animal from the Muppet Show. "This is yours," I replied, not knowing how I really was so. Ten minutes later he had to buy Iris a drink. He was actually looking for the fado guitarist and, moreover, as it turned out later in the evening, an excellent dancer.
I did not like dancing. I wanted to find my first feminist free drink. My broken English was more French women blush: "Excuse me, are you a nude model? - No? Then you must be a feminist. No? Psychologists do you know any? Tell me, if you find one. "
Then I changed my strategy. Instead of looking for my sacrifice, I really need to wait until it automatically came up to me. Everyone was here looking. I only had to eject himself as bait put on good strategic positions, and demonstrate willingness to talk. A good place to do it seemed like a fire that had ignited in the vicinity of the beach bar. There I stood pondering next to a group of young French women who immediately took notice of me. It was not long before I was asked, smiling if I was a doctor and perhaps would have written a book about body functions. No, do you? If one of you may Psychology study? No? Too bad.
"And whom do you seek?" I asked a beautiful French woman who was sitting a little off, "Maybe I am, yes."
"No, you're nothin '. Seeking ain Mädschn. "
She seemed about to be a little sad.
"Perhaps I know them."
"She uh gäschriebän a book. It was so traumatic imperiously. Ah, how do you say? There is a highway. I know nothin ', as they say. "
" Hmm. Highway. That might have to do with me. "
" no. You're nothin 'there. Table search ain Mädschn. "
" Show me your list with the information! Aha. He lives in a house that is to be demolished, because there is a highway built. A quote from a story he wrote about it is: the women go first, then comes the highway. Hmm. Yeah well. That's me. "
" No! That there is nothin '. Eastern thought, I am looking for a Mädschn "
" Yes, it is then obviously a translation error. In the German text on the note, is it '. Apparently Babbra and Thierry had 20 years without controversy, because they never understood. "
" Ah. It's you wirklisch. I found my victim. "
" And what's your name? "
" Orsisie "
"? "
"Angsicil"
"?"
"Anne-Cecile."
"Ah. And my name is Kampa. Andreas Kampa. What drink do you want? "
