We sit with a Cappuccino each, surveying the endless procession of evening strollers along the Venetian quayside, whose sole purpose is to make an impression.
The Rules are, with no holds barred: who would you choose to spend the rest of your life with, based on such a modest assessment?
It's not easy, interest level is about 1 in a 100 passers-by.
Too old, nice face but too much weight on the hips, nice body but too much like an extra from a vampire movie and so on...
I opted for a wholly inappropriate Japanese teenager in a pink top with matching rucksack, either that or a similarly delicate woman in her early twenties.
Isabelle had a more arduous task, men being men; conversely choosing some father-figure, well proportioned, probably Italian.
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2 comments:
Isabelle now starting to feel a tad nervous I imagine.
These parlour games of illusion are merely a form of Trivial Pursuit rather than an indicator of significant predeliction.
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