Thursday, September 28, 2006

My cigar-chomping friend...

No, it's not woodsmoke you're smelling. I call her Angel. She's my radical-socialist teamster friend who is homeless, but sleeps somewhere near to St. Peter's Square. She has refereed the crowds around the Vatican for years. Some mistake her for a bloodthirsty rugby football player. She jumps headlong into any crowd while zig-zagging and scraping about for someone to shout at; like some Frenchman or the like. When you see her bristling, just don't laugh at her eyebrows...or the cigar!

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