The other day I was switching channels on the ancient tv set in my inner sanctum. On one of the sports channels a women's volleyball match was on. Now, I am not much of a volleyball fan so I would have changed channels instantly if. If it wasn't for the girl on the screen who was standing there behind the net with her hands held up in waiting for the action to start, concentrating with eyes the warmest, loveliest possible shade of brown. Looking so much like someone who once meant so much to me. Thunderbolt. I got hit like Michael Corleone when he came across Apollonia in Sicily.
So I started watching women's volleyball - without the sound, though, and not paying too much attention, as meanwhile I was working on my multitasking skills by listening to music and translating from German into English (the latter being a hell of a job considering that my German is practically non-existent). I kept glancing at the screen spotting girl nr. 8 every now and then, adoring her breathtaking beauty and uncanny resemblance to that other girl from the past.
After some time I began to wonder what her name might be so I stopped the music and turned up the volume on the tv set. And then the commentator's voice shocked me out of my pants. Tormási, he said.
For God's sakes, I used be her English teacher when she was fifteen or so. I would never have recognized her. I remember her being a nice girl in school and a promising young volleyball player. Some faint memory suggests that she even left the school for another one where it was easier for her to pursue her sports career. I even played volleyball with her and some of her classmates on PE lessons or after school and I even lent her a strip of elastic band for her wrist once. I haven't a clue what marks I tended to give her, though. I don't care.
It's just great to see now that she has grown to be someone gorgeous and successful and I guess I'll watch more women's volleyball from now on.
However: L.
So I started watching women's volleyball - without the sound, though, and not paying too much attention, as meanwhile I was working on my multitasking skills by listening to music and translating from German into English (the latter being a hell of a job considering that my German is practically non-existent). I kept glancing at the screen spotting girl nr. 8 every now and then, adoring her breathtaking beauty and uncanny resemblance to that other girl from the past.
After some time I began to wonder what her name might be so I stopped the music and turned up the volume on the tv set. And then the commentator's voice shocked me out of my pants. Tormási, he said.
For God's sakes, I used be her English teacher when she was fifteen or so. I would never have recognized her. I remember her being a nice girl in school and a promising young volleyball player. Some faint memory suggests that she even left the school for another one where it was easier for her to pursue her sports career. I even played volleyball with her and some of her classmates on PE lessons or after school and I even lent her a strip of elastic band for her wrist once. I haven't a clue what marks I tended to give her, though. I don't care.
It's just great to see now that she has grown to be someone gorgeous and successful and I guess I'll watch more women's volleyball from now on.
However: L.
Nincsenek megjegyzések:
Megjegyzés küldése