In the grocery store, sometimes I feel very conscious of the length of my short dress, or whom I have gone with.
I tried to remember if I had verbally spoken to anyone in person all weekend. I closed the tab.
It didn’t just happen overnight, the neat, sarcastic packaging of my childhood misfortunes.
I mention all this prefatory to the story of enrolling myself in French acting lessons.
How will Cape Town know it's winter without American Legs?